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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


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CENTS  a  day  thereafter.  It  was  taken  out  on 
the  day  indicated  below: 


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RAIDS  AND  ROMANCE 


OF 


MOllGAN  AND  HIS  MEN. 


BY 


SALLY  ROCHESTER  FORD, 

AUTHOR   OF    "  GRACE   TRUMAN,"    "  MARY   BUNTAN,"    ETC. 


aE^cprfiitet)  from  tjjc  f^oftflc  HtiitfoTL 


NEW  YORK: 
CHARLES     B.    RICHARDSON, 

596     BROADWAY. 

18G4. 


Entered  accordins  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864, 

By  CHARLES  B.  RICHARDSON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Unite(i  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


RAIDS   AND    ROMANCE 


OP 


MORGAN  AND  HIS  MEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE    DETERMINATION. 


''TnE  cause  is  a  noble  and  a  just  one,  my  son,  and  if  you  bav^o 
decided  you  must  go,  I  will  no  longer  oppose  you." 

Tbus  spoke  Mr.  R.  to  bis  eldest  son  Cbarles,  a  youtb  of  nineteen 
years  of  age,  as  tbe  two  stood  in  consultation  beneatli  a  large  elin- 
tree  in  front  of  tbeir  dwelling,  in  Jeflferson  county,  Kentucky,  near 
tbe  city  of  Louisville. 

Cbarles  R.  was  tbe  eldest  of  a  family  of  six  cbildren — four  boys 
and  two  girls.  Charles,  or  '•  Cbarley,"  as  be  was  familiarly  called 
by  bis  family  and  friends,  was  a  fine  exponent  of  true  Kentucky 
character; — noble,  impulsive,  brave;  quick  to  perceive  the  right, 
ready  to  defend  it. 

When,  on  tbe  15tb  of  April,  1861,  tbe  dread  voice  of  war  echoed 
and  re-echoed  throughout  the  land,  rousing  the  millions  from  their 
peaceful  pursuits  into  the  wildest  fury,  fired  with  patriotic  ardor, 
Charley  besought  his  father  to  allow  him  to  seize  bis  gun  and 
rush  to  the  defence  of  the  South.  The  father  objected.  Ills  child 
was  young,  be  was  his  eldest  boy  and  greatly  beloved  ;  and,  more- 
over, amid  tbe  rapid  rush  of  dread  events,  which  had  so  convulsed 
the  nation,  Mr.  R.,  influenced  by  his  life-long  love  for  the  old 
Union,  bad  not  been  able  to  decide  satisfactorily  to  bis  own  mind 
where  the  right  rested. 


658UJ 


6  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

But  the  fearful  unfoldings  of  the  war  policy  of  the  administra- 
tion which  took  place  between  the  date  of  Lincoln's  "War  Proc- 
lamation" and  the  time  of  which  we  write,  had  fully  decided  hiiu 
in  fiwor  of  the  South;  and  although  a  man  distinguished  for  his 
reticence  and  aversion  to  all  unnecessary  political  discussions,  he 
boldly  avowed  his  position,  and  defended  it  by  clear  and  logical 
argument,  whenever  it  was  attacked.  And  his  opposition  to  his 
son's  enlisting  under  the  Southern  banner  was  dictated  by  his 
attachment  to  him,  and  not  inditference  to  the  cause. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  of  which  we  speak,  Charley  (as  we 
shall  continue  to  call  him  throughout  this  narrative)  had  gone  into 
the  city,  as  was  his  daily  custom,  to  learn  tlie  news  and  procure 
the  morning  paper  for  the  family.  Passing  along  Green-street, 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Custom-house,  he  met  young  Fox,  an  old 
friend  of  his,  whom  he  had  known  for  years. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  were  in  Dixie  Land,  Amos,"  exclaimed 
Charley,  in  surprise,  as  the  two  encountered  each  other. 

"Silence,  Charley,  do  not  betray  me,"  whispered  the  young 
man,  as  he  slipped  his  young  friend's  arm  through  his  and  turned 
into  Third-street  towards  Broadway.  The  two  walked  quickly 
along,  avoiding  observation,  until  they  reached  the  Commons  out- 
side the  city.  Then  seating  themselves  on  the  grass  at  the  root 
of  an  old  beech-tree,  which  stood  removed  some  paces  from  the 
public  road,  the  two  engaged  in  conversation. 

'"Charley,"  said  his  friend  to  him,  "I  know  you  have  from  the 
beginning  of  this  war  been  anxious  to  go  South,  Buckner  is  now 
in  Kentucky,  as  you  know,  and  every  Southern  man  who  can 
bear  arms  ought  to  join  him.  I  have  spoken  to  a  great  many  of 
our  acquaintances,  and  there  is  a  number  of  young  men  now  ready 
and  only  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  get  through." 

"And  this  is  all  that  deters  me,"  responded  Charley,  his  whole 
countenance  expressive  of  the  strong  emotion  that  fired  his  breast. 
"  I  have  been  thinking  over  the  matter  for  days,  and  once  or  twice 
I  have  spoken  to  father  about  it.  You  know  he  has  always  ob- 
jected to  my  going,  because  he  thinks  I  am  too  young;  but  his 
opposition  seems  to  be  yielding.  And  I  know,  when  he  sees  I  am 
determined  to  go,  he  will  consent.  I  shall  make  every  thing 
ready,  and  the  first  opening  that  presents  itself,  I  will  go.  But 
tell  me,  Amos,  how  did  you  get  back,  and  what  are  they  doing 
down  at  Bowling  Green  ?  We  have  had  so  many  rumors  here, 
no  one  knows  what  to  believe." 

"I  came  on  the  cars  to  Elizabethtown.     Being  detained  there 


OF   MOliGAN   AJSTD   HIS   MEN.  7 

a  few  days,  I  was  caught  by  the  blockade  of  the  raih-oad,  aud  had 
to  take  a  bugfry  to  come  to  the  city." 

"But  toll  me,  Amo.-s,  why  did  not  General  Buckner  and  his 
troops  come  to  Louisville?  Last  week  everybody  expected  nim. 
Ladies  kept  themselves  and  children  dressed  and  in  readiness  to 
h-ave  at  a  moment's  notice.  Union  men  sent  their  money  and 
silver-ware  to  Jetfersonville.  Old  Prentice,  it  is  said,  had  all  the 
valuables  of  his  printinjj^-ollice  moved  over  the  river,  and  he  himself 
went  over  every  night  that  he  might  be  safe  from  Buckner  and 
his  men.  The  whole  place  was  one  scene  of  wild  excitement, 
everybody  appearing  to  have  taken  leave  of  their  wits." 

"General  Buckner  would  have  taken  possession  of  Muld rough's 
Hill,  most  assuredly,  had  it  not  been  for  an  untoward  accident  on 
the  railroad.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  ever  designed  moving 
on  Louisville." 

**And  what  was  this  accident?  Do  tell  me  all  you  know, 
Amos,  with  regard  to  the  Confederates  coming  into  Kentucky. 
We  know  nothing  here." 

"You  must  promise  me  secrecy,  Charley.  I  do  not  know  how 
long  I  may  have  to  stay  here.  And  should  my  name  be  known 
as  connected  with  their  movements,  I  would  certainly  be  ar- 
rested." 

"Trust  me,  Amos,  I  will  keep  every  thing  most  masonically," 
responded  Charley,  drawing  closer  to  the  side  of  his  friend. 

'*  I  must  begin  back,  in  order  fully  to  explain  the  whole  matter 
to  you  satisfactorily." 

"  Do  so.     I  wish  to  know  every  incident." 

"But  wait  a  moment.  Yonder  is  John  Lawrence  crossing  the 
Common.  Our  old  friend  John,  you  remember  him.  He  has 
just  returned  from  Yale,  completely  disgusted  with  the  Yankees 
and  every  thing  pertaining  to  them,  and  is  longing  to  get  South. 
Let  me  call  him." 

'^  We  can  trust  him?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  thoroughly  with  us,  and  as  true  as  steel." 

Charley  rose,  and  advancing  a  few  paces  from  the  tree,  beckoned 
to  the  young  man  who  was  leisurely  pursuing  his  way  from  the 
high-road  across  the  open  grass-plot  that  intervened  between  it 
aud  the  woodland  to  the  letl.  His  attention  was  arrested,  and 
with  quick  step  he  advanced  to  the  spot  where  Charley  stood. 
The  two  approached  the  tree.  Young  Fox  stepped  forward  and 
grasped  the  hand  o(  his  old  frienid,  shaking  it  most  cordially. 

''  I  have  not  seen  you  for  a  long  time,  John,"  said  he,  as  he  con- 


8  EAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

tinued  to  hold  bis  hand.     "  You  have  been  living  with  the  Yan- 
kees for  the  last  two  or  three  years.     IIow  do  you  like  them  V 

"Plague  take  them.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  liking  Yankees, 
Am^s;  I  detest  the  whole  narrow-minded,  nigger-loving,  thieving 
race.  And  if  I  could  have  my  wish,  I  would  send  a  bullet  through 
the  last  one  of  them  before  sundown." 

"  You  are  ready  to  shoulder  your  gun  against  them  then,  are  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  at  any  moment.  But  tell  me,  how  is  it  you  are  here?  I 
made  inquiry  for  you  only  a  few  days  back,  and  your  brother  told 
me  you  were  South.  How  did  you  get  through,  and  what  are 
they  all  doing  down  there  ?  General  Buckner  is  at  Bow^ling  Green 
we  knoAv,  and  the  boys  are  having  a  glorious  time,  we  hear,  but 
further  than  this  we  can  learn  nothing." 

"Amos  will  tell  us  all  about  it,  John.  He  was  just  about  to 
begin,  when  I  discovered  you  passing  across  the  common,  and  I 
begged  of  him  to  allow  me  to  call  you.  I  knew  you  would  be  so 
gratified  to  hear  of  Buckner's  move  into  Kentucky,  and  his  occu- 
pation of  Bowling  Green." 

The  three  seated  themselves.  Removed  as  they  were  from  the 
road,  there  was  no  probability  of  intrusion  or  interruption. 

"  All  I  tell  you,  boys,  is  to  be  kept  secret.  Ou^  enemies  must 
not  be  made  aware  of  our  most  trivial  movements.  It  is  necessary 
to  deceive  them,  for  I  tell  you,  boys,  we  have  a  great  deal  to  do 
before  we  are  ready  to  give  them  fight." 

The  two  readily  acceded  to  his  proposition,  and  the  young  man 
commenced  his  narrative. 

"  On  the  IVth  of  this  month.  General  Buckner,  then  at  Camp 
Boone,  dispatched  Dick  Wintersmith  to  Elizabethtown  to  seize  all 
the  cars  and  locomotives  that  were  concentrated  at  that  point.  He 
had  previously  written  in  cipher  to  Colonels  Hardin  Helm  and 
Reed,  who  resided  in  that  town,  to  hold  themselves  in  readiness 
to  assist  in  such  a  movement,  which  would  take  place  in  a  few 
days,  as  it  was  necessary  they  should  have  rolling-stock  to  trans- 
port their  troops  rapidly  into  the  State.  Wintersmith  proceeded 
in  haste  to  Russellville,  from  which  point  he  telegraphed  Helm, 
'  All  right.     I  will  be  up  on  next  train.' 

"From  Russellville  he  went  to  Bowling  Green,  where  he  made 

known  the  secret  of  his  expedition  to  Dr. ,  a  true  Southern 

man,  with  whom  he  left  the  business  of  guarding  the  bridge  over 
Barren  river,  which  was  to  be  done  in  such  a  manner  as  to  avoid 
all  suspicion.  It  was  necessary  to  use  every  precaution,  for  had 
the  Home  Guard  or  Union  men  for  a  moment  supposed  what  wa.^ 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  9 

on  liand,  tlioy  would  have  torn  up  the  tracks,  or  destroyed  bridges, 
thereby  frustrating  the  whole  project. 

"  Having  made  every  arrangement  for  safety  and  success  at  this 
point  that  his  limited  time  would  permit,  Wintersmith  came  on  to 
Cave  City. 

"  Here,  as  you  are  aware,  the  trains  pass  each  other.  As  the  train 
bound  for  Bowling  Green  came  up  beside  the  up-train,  Blanton 
Duncan,  who  you  know  is  an  excitable  man,  rushed  to  the  plat- 
form and  called  out  to  know  if  Mitchell  La  Beet  was  on  board,' 
stating  in  a  hurried  nervous  manner  that  twenty  policemen  from 
Louisville  were  in  waiting  at  Eiizabethtown  to  arrest  him  as  soon 
as  he  should  reach  there.  This,  of  course,  w^as  alarming  intelli- 
gence to  Major  Wintersmith,  who  felt  for  a  moment  foiled  in  his 
undertaking.  But  being  self-possessed,  and  of  a  brave,  daring 
nature,  and  fully  realizing  the  importance  of  the  work  intrusted 
to  him,  he  in  a  moment  decided  to  call  in  the  counsel  and  aid  of 
several  gentlemen  on  board  the  cars,  who  he  well  knew  were 
Southern,  and  would  dare  any  thing  to  serve  their  cause.  Th« 
few  minutes  allowed  him  to  execute  his  purpose  were  actively 
employed  in  providing  for  guarding  the  road  at  all  points  where  it 
was  feared  rails  might  be  removed  or  bridges  burned. 

"  TVith  two  or  three  friends  on  whom  he  could  depend  in  any 
exigency,  he  pursued  his  way  to  Eiizabethtown,  no't  knowing  but 
that  he  would  be  seized  as  soon  as  he  should  reach  the  depot,  yet 
determined  to  risk  his  life  in  the  accomplishment  of  his  trust. 
Reaching  Eiizabethtown,  and  ascertaining  that  there  was  no  such 
police  force  there,  as  Colonel  Duncan  had  mentioned,  his  first 
inquiry  was  for  Colonel  Helm.  To  his  bitter  disappointment  and 
deep  chagrin  he  learned  that  that  personage  had  left  the  town  and 
eet  out  with  bis  family  on  the  morning  train  for  Nashville. 

''At  the  depot  he  met  Colonel  Reed,  who,  with  others,  bad 
come  down  to  meet  him. 

"  '  And  Helm  is  gone  !'  was  his  exclamation,  as  he  seized  Reed's 
hand. 

" '  Yes,'  was  the  response. 

"  '  And  what  is  our  prospect  ?  No  Union  force  here,  I  suppose?' 
he  asked,  hurriedly,  of  his  friend. 

"  '  None.' 

"'Well,  then,'  added  Wintersmith,  'we  shall  accomplish  the 
work.  Are  you  armed,  Reed?  What  we  do  must  be  done 
quickly.  Not  a  moment  to  lose.  And  we  must  proceed  quietly, 
also.     Any  alarm  will  ruin  us.' 

1* 


10  BAroS   AND   EOMANCE 

"  Major  Wintersmith,  accompanied  by  his  telegraph  operator, 
Tvboin  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Nashville,  and  followed  by 
young  La  Rue,  a  nephew  of  John  L.  Helm,  rushed,  without  a 
moment's  delay,  up  stairs  into  the  telegraph  office,  which  was 
situated  at  the  depot.  The  operator,  scared  out  of  his  propriety  by 
this  sudden  appearance  in  his  room  of  two  armed  men,  and  awed 
by  their  stern  words  and  determined  manner,  made  but  little 
opposition,  and  with  a  few  reraonstrative  remarks  yielded  up  his 
position  to  the  young  man  who  came  with  Major  Wintersmith. 

"  'Dispatch  to  Louisville,'  commanded  the  major,  '  that  the  cars 
are  off  the  track.     Nobody  hurt.     Will  be  in  late  this  afternoon.' 

"The  order  was  obeyed.  The  Yankee  operator  placed  under 
gnard,  and  the  major,  with  the  assistance  of  Colonel  Reed,  young 
La  Rue,  and  others  who  readily  joined  his  standard  as  soon  as  hi>* 
object  was  known,  proceeded,  with  all  possible  energy,  to  seize  all 
the  locomotives  and  cars  found  in  the  place.  One  engineer 
positively  refused  to  yield. 

" '  We  do  not  wish  to  hurt  you,  sir,'  said  Major  Wintersmith  to 
him  in  a  tone  which  bespoke  the  decision  of  his  heart,  'but  we 
must  have  your  locomotive  and  train,  and  it  is  useless  for  you  to 
resist.  We  are  armed,  and  determined  to  perform  the  work 
assigned  us  by  our  authorities.' 

"'Well,  gentlemen,'  replied  the  engineer,  who  was  convinced 
of  the  propriety  of  acquiescence,  'I  yield  only  to  force,  and  I  wish 
this  distinctly  understood.' 

"'Oh,  certainly,  sir,'  replied  the  major,  'we  compel  you.' 

"  '  Will  you  give  me  a  certificate  to  this  effect  ?' 
'Assuredly,  sir.' 

"The  certificate  was  written,  and  the  engineer  withdrew, 
leaving  Major  Wintersmith  and  his  friends  in  possession  of  the 
t^^ain. 

"  This  was  a  most  valuable  acquisition — the  locomotive  being  the 
finest  on  the  road ;  and  moreover  the  cars  were  laden  with  such 
provisions  as  the  Confederate  troops  most  needed." 

"Bravo,  bravo!"  shouted  the  two  hsteners,  wild  with  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  the  major's  success  had  inspired  them. 
*•  Three  cheers  for  Wintersmith  and  Reed!" 

"And  I  do  hope,"  added  young  Lawrence,  "  that  the  Confeder- 
ates may  get  every  pound  of  the  vast  stores  that  for  weeks  have 
been  accumulating  at  Elizabethtown.  Father  has  a  large  quantity 
of  bacon  and  flour  there,  and,  in  his  name,  I  bid  Buckner  and  his 
brave  followers  a  hearty  welcome  to  it  all.     Three  times  three  for 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS    MEN.  11 

the  South  !"  he  vociferated,  as  he  took  off  his  cap  and  waived  it 
energetically  in  the  air.  "May  she  triumph  on  every  battle-field, 
and  whip  the  Yankees  to  death  in  every  engagement.  But  resume 
your  narrative,  Fox," 

*'  As  soon  asM.'ijor  "Wintersmith  had  obtained  full  possession  of 
all  the  rolling-stock,  and  so  guarded  it  as  to  secure  it  against  any 
attempt  at  recapture,  he  sent  a  locomotive  and  tender,  with  about 
twenty  armed  men,  led  by  Colonel  Reed  and  La  Rue,  towards  the 
Junction,  for  the  puri)ose  of  capturing  the  train  from  Lebanon  to 
Louisville,  and  also  the  evening  train  from  Louisville  to  Bowling 
Green.  This  undertaking  was  eminently  successful  in  getting 
possession  of  both  trains,  but,  unfortunately  for  the  sortie,  some 
wretch  escaped  from  the  train  while  it  stood  at  the  Junction,  and 
ran  about  half  a  mile  in  advance,  and  tore  up  the  rails;  and  when 
the  train  came  dashing  along  at  full  speed,  a  few  minutes  after- 
wards, the  front  passenger  car  was  thrown  off  the  track,  and 
precipitated  some  thirty  or  forty  feet  down  a  precipice.  The  next 
car,  strange  to  say,  was  detached  and  fell  directly  across  the  road. 

'•'  This,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  was  a  fearful  situation  for  the 
expeditionists.  Some  two  or  three  locomotives,  together  with  a 
freight  and  construction  train  were  behind  the  fallen  car.  This 
must  be  removed  and  the  road  repaired  before  there  was  any 
possibility  of  advancing  towards  their  destination.  They  were 
momentarily  expecting  an  attack  from  the  Home  Guard  of  that 
region,  who,  they  had  been  informed,  were  assembling  to  capture 
them.  And,  to  add  to  their  troubles,  night  was  rapidly  approach- 
ing and  the  rain  began  to  fall  heavily. 

"But  nothing  daunted,  the  boys,  led  by  Colonel  Reed,  threw 
oflf  their  coats  and  set  about  removing  the  car  that  blocked  up  the 
road.  It  was  an  arduous  undertaking.  They  worked  with  right 
good-will,  using  fence-rails  and  whatever  they  could  make  available 
to  expedite  their  work.  The  passengers,  of  whom  none  were 
killed,  and  only  one  man  severely  bruised,  lent  their  assistance. 
They  were  mostly  Southern  men,  and  those  who  professed  Union- 
ism were  not  so  tenacious  of  their  avowed  principles  as  to  prevent 
their  participating  in  the  novel  and  exciting  work.  But  the  task 
was  a  gigantic  one,  and  it  was  near  the  morning  before  the  car 
was  hurled  over  the  precipice  to  take  position  with  its  predecessor. 
This  being  at  last  done,  it  was  the  work  of  but  a  few  minutes  to 
replace  the  rails,  bring  back  the  locomotive,  which  had  strangely 
leaped  the  gap  and  landed  safely  on  the  other  side,  attach  it  to 
the  train,  and  drive  at  full  speed  to  Elizabethtown. 


12  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

"Meanwhile  Major  Wintersmith  had  placed  the  town  under 
martial  law,  sent  out  pickets  and  videttes,  dispatched  messengers 
to  Bardstown  and  other  points  to  collect  together  some  companies 
which  were  in  a  state  of  partial  organization,  and  bring  them  in, 
and  made  all  necessary  preparation  to  return  to  Bowling  Green, 
where  he  was  to  meet  General  Buckner  and  the  troops  from  Camps 
Boone  and  Trousdale." 

''And  what  was  the  sum  total  of  the  expedition,  Fox?"  asked 
Charley.  "■  The  major  and  his  friends  must  have  gotten  a  rich 
booty." 

'*  They  took  eight  good  locomotives;  among  the  number  that 
superior  one  I  mentioned,  which  is  by  far  the  best  in  the  West, 
about  two  hundred  cars,  fifty  of  these  being  construction  cars, 
which  are  so  much  needed  at  Bowling  Green,  an  immense  amount 
of  provisions  of  all  kinds,  which  will  be  most  acceptable  to  Bnck- 
ner's  army,  and  all  this  without  the  loss  of  one  life." 

''Capital!"  exclaimed  young  Lawrence,  springing  to  his  feet, 
and  again  tossing  up  his  cap  with  cheers  for  Wintersmith  and  the 
Confederacy.  "  I  heartily  wish,  boys,  that  they  would  come  and 
take  Louisville  as  easily." 

"  But  tell  us,  Fox,  why  did  not  General  Buckner  come  to  Louis- 
ville ?" 

'•'•  I  am  not  sure  that  he  designed  the  occupation  of  our  city.  He 
wished,  however,  to  possess  Muldrough's  Hill,  and  the  day  after 
he  reached  Bowling  Green,  he  sent  forward  the  Second  Kentucky, 
Hanson's  regiment,  for  this  purpose.  But,  unfortunately,  some 
vile  Unionists  had  torn  up  the  road,  and  the  cars  containing  the 
men  were  precipitated  from  the  track." 

"Anybody  hurt?"  interrupted  Charley. 

'•Not  a  man.  It  was  really  providential  that  no  life  was  lost. 
Before  the  road  could  be  prepared,  Rousseau  had  advanced,  and 
thus  General  Buckner's  designs  were  wholly  frustrated." 

"How  unfortunate!"  exclaimed  Charley.  "This  city  would 
have  been  an  easy  prey,  and  General  Buckner  and  his  men  would 
have  been  hailed  as  deliverers,  benefactors,  by  a  large  portion  of 
the  citizens.  Now,  I  fear,  it  is  too  late — too  late.  These  hordes 
of  blue-coated  Abolitionists  that  daily  pass  through  the  streets, 
must  necessarily  impede  his  progress :  I  fear  may  prevent  it 
altogether." 

"  And  this  is  why  General  Buckner  did  not  come  to  Louisville," 
remarked  Lawrence.  "  We  could  not  tell  why  it  was,  but  this 
explains  it  all.     Rumor  gave  a  thousand  reasons,  but  you  know 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  13 

nothing  can  be  credited  in  these  days  of  falsehood  and  exaggera- 
tion." 

"Do  you  think,  Fox,  that  Buckner  will  come  soon?"  asked 
Charley  thoughtfully. 

"  No't  soon." 

'^And  why?" 

''  Because  of  his  want  of  men.  He  has  but  a  small  force,  much 
j-'ss  than  persons  suppose;  but  he  is  determined  to  remain  in  his 
present  position.  As  to  whether  he  will  advance,  that  will  depend 
entirely  upon  the  reinforcements  he  shall  receive  and  the  force 
sent  against  him." 

"If  he  cannot  come  to  us,  John,  we  will  go  to  Iiim.  "We  should 
not  remain  idle  here  while  our  cause  is  suffering  for  men  to  defend 
it.  What  say  you,  John,  shall  we  not  hazard  every  thing  to  reach 
Buckner?" 

"  Yes,  Charley,  I  shall  go  home  and  make  arrangements  to  leave 
at  the  very  earliest  opportunity.      When  do  you  go  back,  Fox  ?" 

"  I  leave  to-night," 

"  Could  you  not  delay  a  few  days  in  order  to  give  Charley  and 
me  time  to  get  ready  ?" 

"  I  am  under  promise,  and  have  made  all  my  arrangements  to  set 
out  at  ten  to-night,  otherwise  I  would  wait  for  you  with  pleasure. 
But  you  will  find  opportunities  for  getting  through.  Young  men 
are  constantly  leaving  this  portion  of  the  State  to  join  Buckner. 
There  is  a  camp  near  Bloomfield,  where  whole  companies  have 
several  times  rendezvoused  and  gone  through.  Your  safest  way 
would  be  to  go  there.     But  list,  what  does  that  music  mean?" 

"  Another  abolition  regiment  wending  its  way  to  the  Nashville 
depot,  no  doubt,"  replied  young  Lawrence.  "My  blood  grows 
hot  as  I  think  of  their  polluted  feet  desecrating  the  streets  of  our 
city.  It  is  hard  to  bear  the  sight,  boys.  And  yet,  where  is  the 
remedy  ?" 

"  It  can  be  found  only  in  throwing  ourselves  against  them,  John, 
and  driving  them  back  to  their  own  homes.  We  are  subjugated 
unless  we  can  conquer." 

"  True,  true ;  there  is  no  other  hope.  And  I  for  one  will  risk 
my  life  for  freedom." 

The  three  arose  and  walked  towards  the  city.  At  the  corner 
of  Broadway  and  Third-street  they  separated,  each  to  enter  upon 
active  preparations  for  joining  the  army  at  Bowling  Green. 

An  hour  afterwards,  Charley  and  John  encountered  each  other 
in  front  of  the  Gait  House. 


14  EAIDS   AND   KOMAXCE 

''I  shall  leave  to-morrow  night,  Lawrence.  I  have  just  seen 
young  Ashmore,  who  tells  me  that  my  only  hope  is  to  g(j  through 
Bloorafield',  as  suggested  by  Fox.     He  sets  out  to-night." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  Charley." 

"  Meet  me,  then,  to-morrow  night,  at  the  first  toll-gate  on  the 
Bardstown  pike.  1  shall  be  in  the  city  again  to-morrow,  but  for 
fear  I  may  not  see  you,  I  now  will  make  this  agreement." 

♦^  Very  well." 

Charley  made  some  necessary  purchases,  and  without  delay 
drove  homeward. 


OF  MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  1& 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    PAUTINO. 

As  Charley  reached  the  stile,  he  saw  his  father  approaching  the 
house  through  the  lawn.  Securing  the  horse,  he  hastened  to  meet 
hiui  and  unfold  to  hiiu  his  purpose.  The  father  was  not  surprised. 
For  weeks  he  had  observed  the  restless,  thoughtful  manner  of  his 
son,  and  had  divined  tfie  cause.  It  had  given  him  much  anxious 
thought  and  many  a  heart- pang,  for  he  was  conscious  the  time 
was  fast  approaching  when  a  final  decision  must  be  had.  He 
could  not  forbid  his  son's  going,  yet  he  felt  very  averse  at  his  im- 
mature age  to  yield  him  to  the  chances  of  a  war  which  he  already 
foresaw  must  be  sanguinary  and  protracted. 

Therefore,  when  Charley  broke  his  intentions  to  him,  he  en- 
deavored with  all  a  father's  yearning  tenderness  to  dissuade  him 
from  his  purpose. 

Charley  listened  to  his  father's  arguments,  but  remained  uncon- 
vinced. 

"I  must  go,  father,  and  go  now.  It  will  not  do  for  me  to  delay 
longer,"  he  replied,  with  fixed  determination,  to  his  father's  ob- 
jections. "  To  remain  at  home  while  the  Southern  cause  is  calling 
aloud  for  aid,  would  be-  disgrace,  infamy.  You  yourself,  father, 
could  not  respect  me,  if  I  should  hesitate,  now  that  our  own  Ken- 
tucky is  invaded  by  the  dastard  abolition  foe." 

His  face  was  flushed — his  voice  trembled  with  the  depth  of  his 
emotion — his  dark  hazel  eye  glowed  with  patriotic  fire. 

The  father  gazed  upon  his  son — the  opposition  yielded.  The 
noble  ardor  of  his  boy  had  conquered  him. 

The  two  passed  into  the  house.  The  family  were  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  young  man's  resolve.  Witheringly  tlie  intelli- 
gence fell  on  the  fond  mother's  heart.  Like  the  fiery  shaft  that 
suddenly  darts  from  the  surcliarged  cloud,  spreading  death  and 
desolation  over  the  beautiful  and  glowing  landscape,  so  came  this 
terrible  blow  to  sweep  away  in  darkness  and  sadness  every  hope, 
every  joy.  She  bowed  her  head  in  silence.  No  word  escaped 
her  lips,  as  she  sat  gazing  on  the  smouldering  embers  in  the  grate. 


16  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

How  could  she  give  her  boy,  her  eldest-born,  her  well -beloved 
son  to  the  horrid  fate  of  war?  Her  heart  stood  still  before  the 
appalling  picture. 

"Oh,  my  son!"  she  exclaimed,  after  a  few  minutes'  thought, 
*'I  cannot  let  you  go.  It  is  more  than  I  can  bear.  You  are  so 
young,  so  inexperienced.  You  cannot  conceive  of  all  you  will 
have  to  undergo,  even  if  you  could  get  through  safely.  But  this 
is  impossible.  Danger  is  on  every  side.  The  enemy  is  scattered 
on  every  hand,  and  the  Home  Guard,  an  undisciplined  mob,  are 
well  armed  and  infest  every  town  and  cross-road.  There  is  no 
way  open  for  you." 

"  I  know  it  all,  mother,  and  have  fully  considered  all  I  shall 
have  to  undergo,  but  I  would  brave  all  this  and  tenfold  more  to 
strike  for  the  right.  I  must  go,  and  tha't  immediately.  These 
dangers  that  you  speak  of  increase  every  hour." 

''  But  how  can  you  go^  my  son  ?  You  cannot  make  your  way 
through  the  Federal  lines.  There  is  no  way.  We  are  hemmed 
in  on  all  sides." 

'•There  is  a  camp,  mother,  near  Bloomfield,  in  Nelson  county. 
I  will  make  my  way  to  it  and  get  out  with  others.  Men  are  con- 
stantly going  to  Buckner  from  this  point." 

The  mother  could  not  give  her  consent.  JSTeither  could  she 
further  oppose  the  unalterable  purpose  of  her  son.  "With  that  sad- 
ness which  only  a  mother's  heart  can  feel  under  a  similar  trial, 
she  busied  herself  with  the  necessary  preparation  to  secure  a  com- 
fortable outfit.  Every  thing  was  conducted  quietly.  Neighbors 
might  betray,  servants  might  tell  tales. 

"Lu,"  said  Charley  to  his  sister,  wBo  sat  beside  him  sewing 
away  as  fast  as  she  could  on  some  flannel  under-garments  for  her 
brother,  "you  must  go  into  the  city  to-morrow  and  bring  out 
Mary  Lawrence." 

"  But  she  will  not  come,  Charley.  Yon  know  John  is  going  to 
the  army,  too." 

"I  will  see  John,  and  get  him  to  come  here  with  me.  "We  will 
leave  together." 

"Oh,  well,  that  will  answer  finely.  I  should  like  to  see  John 
once  more  before  he  turns  soldier.  He  used  to  be  one  of  my 
great  friends.  But  I  have  not  met  him  since  his  stay  among  the 
Yankees.     I  might  not  admire  him  so  much  now." 

"  He  is  not  changed,  Lu,  only  improved.  You  would  be 
charmed  with  him.  He  is  so  agreeable,  so  noble,  and  so  hand- 
some." 

% 


.OF   MOKGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  17 

"  Ah,  don't  speak  his  praises  too  rapturously.  It  miglit  revive 
the  old  flame.  You  know  we  used  to  play  sweetheart  when  we 
were  children." 

'•Oh,  yes,  t;o  you  did,  and  who  knows  what  may  result  from 
your  meeting  to-morrow?  But  you  will  bring  Mary  out,  won't 
you  ?  And  get  her,  Lu,  to  go  to  Elrod's  and  have  her  ambrotype 
Taken  for  me.     She  will  not  refuse." 

'*  Very  well.      I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  meet  your  requests." 

"  Dearj  kind  sister  you  are,"  said  Charley,  throwing  his  arms 
around  her  neck  and  kissing  her  soft,  white  cheek. 

^'I  cannot  go  with  you  to-night,  Charley,"  said  his  friend  to 
him  as  they  met  the  next  day  at  Manderville's .clothing-store. 

"And  why  not,  John?"  asked  Charley,  surprised. 

"Mother  is  quite  sick  to-day.  As  soon  as  I  told  her  last  night 
of  my  arrangement  to  go  out  with  you,  she  was  seized  with  one  of 
her  old  attacks,  and  Dr.  Hardin  told  pa  this  morning  that  if  I 
should  persevere  in  my  intention,  it  might  cost  her  her  life.  You 
know  slie  has  a  disease  of  the  heart,  and  is  likely  to  die  at  any 
moment.  I  feel  that  I  can  scarcely  relinquish  my  undertaking.  I 
have  made  every  preparation.  See  that  large  package  of  goods 
there.  Pa  got  me  a  complete  outfit,  and,  moreover,  has  bought 
me  a  splendid  horse  from  Bacon's.  But  my  duty  to  my  mother, 
Charley,  is  beyond  my  duty  to  my  country.  And  I  feel  that  I 
must  delay  until  I  can  gain  her  consent." 

"I  regret  this,  John,  deeply  regret  it.  But  you  have  decided 
rightly.  Good-by,  my  friend,  time  presses  me.  I  hope  we  shall 
soon  meet  again,  where,  with  the  brave  hearts  of  the  South,  we 
can  shoulder  our  arms  in  freedom's  cause." 

They  grasped  each  other's  hands  firmly,  and  with  a  hearty 
shake  and  a  word  of  adieu  the  two  friends  parted. 

It  was  the  sunset  hour.  Charley  and  Mary  sat  beside  the  open 
window,  looking  out  upon  the  still,  quiet  scene  beyond.  The  lawn 
with  its  carpet  of  green,  and  shaded  here  and  there  by  clumps  of 
irrand  old  forest  tree.^,  spread  out  before  them..  Beyond  it,  in  the 
distant  horizon,  was  the  dim  hazy  outline  of  the  city.  The  rich 
mellow  rays  of  the  autumnal  sun  were  flooding  the  western  sky 
with  radiant  glory,  such  as  we  dream  lights  up  the  far  away 
abode  of  the  angels.     It  was  a  soft,  sweet  moment  for  love. 

The  two  young  hearts  sat  there  in  silence,  each  pulsating  with 
that  fervent  emotion.  "  What  an  age  of  anxious  bliss  we  often 
live  in  a  few  moments !"  The  hand  of  the  dial  has  scarcely  moved 
over  the  horoscope  of  time,  but  we  have,  in  these  few  fleeting 


IS  RAIDS   AND    ROMANCE 

moments,  added  to  our  experience  either  of  pleasure  or  pain,  years 
of  thought  and  feeling.  Oh,  these  dashes  of  joy  or  of  grief,  how- 
far  aduwn  our  life-path  they  throw  their  gladness  and  their  gloom! 
Charley  was  lirst  to  break  the  silence. 

''  You  will  not  forget  me,  Mary,  when  I  am  gone  ?  Years  may 
])ass  before  we  meet  again.  Others  will  gather  round  you,  and 
perhaps  will  strive  to  win  your  love.  Will  they  succeed  ?  The 
thought  is  madness  to  me.  You  know  I  loved  you,  Mary,  w^hen 
in  our  earliest  yedrs  we  used  to  go  with  the  Sabbath-school  to 
our  holiday  pic-nics,  or  in  winter-time  meet  with  our  schoolmates 
in  our  childish  parties.  I  have  loved  you  always,  ever.  My  af- 
fection for  you  has  never  known  change.  And  could  I  feel  now 
that  you  could  love  another ;  that  while  I  am  away,  an  exile  from 
my  home  and  friends,  you  should  cease  to  think  of  me,  forget  to 
love  me — Oh,  the  thought  is  anguish — but  I  will  not  doubt  you, 
Mary.  You  have  ever  been  true,  even  when  far  away.  Shall  I 
not  rely  on  your  constancy  in  the  future  as  I  have  found  it  in  the 
past?" 

Great  tears  stood  in  Mary's  large  blue  eyes,  as  Charley's  w^ords 
of  doubt  fell  on  her  ear.  She  felt  that  her  heart  was  wronged 
even  by  a  suspicion  of  her  faithfulness.  The  pearly  drops  gathered 
andjchased  each  other  down  her  flushing  cheeks.  In  a  voice 
broken  with  emotion,  she  said  : 

"  How  can  you  doubt  me  thus,  Charley  ?  You  do  me  wrong  to 
dream  that  I  could  ever  forget  you.  I  have  always  been  true. 
When  we  were  separated  for  months,  you  had  never  a  reason  to 
suppose  for  a  moment  that  I  ceased  to  remember  you.  Why  should 
you  feel  so  now  that  I  am  older,  and  have  loved  you  longer  ?" 

"Oh,  I  do  not  doubt  you,  Mary,"  he  answered,  clasping  the 
soft,  dimpled  hand  in  his,  and  pressing  it  to  his  lips.  "  Pardon  me 
if  my  language  seemed  to  betray  a  thought  of  change  in  your  af- 
fection.    You  know  love  is  jealous,  apprehensive." 

"■  Oh,  do  not  say  so,  Charley ;  you  pain  my  heart.  Love  should 
be  without  suspicion,  trusting,  confiding.  I  do  not  doubt  you.  I 
do  not  feel  that  any  dark-eyed  daughter  of  Dixie  could  ever  sup- 
plant me  in  your  love." 

"  Never,  never,  Mary.  In  life  and  in  death  I  shall  prove  faith- 
ful to  you.  And  should  I  never  return,  should  I  fall  unnoted,  and 
no  friend  be  near  to  bear  my  dying  words  to  you,  rest  assured  that 
as  now  your  image  shall  dwell  in  my  heart,  and  naught  but  the 
dread  hand  of  death  shall  ever  wrest  it  from  its  shrine." 

Mary  looked  upon  him  in  her  artless  beauty.  Tears  were  stream- 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  19 

ing  from  her  eyes,  and  her  cohir  came  and  went  with  the  varying 
emotions  of  her  lieart.  Never  had  she  appeared  to  Charley  half 
so  lovely.  Her  dark  auburn  curls  were  thrown  back  from  the 
full  sniootli  brow,  whose  whiteness  was  that  of  the  Parian  mar- 
ble. And  from  the  liquid  depths  of  those  large  beautiful  eyes, 
fringed  with  their  long  silken  lashes,  and  now  suffused  with  tears, 
spoke  out  the  true  loving  soul  of  woman  in  all  its  ingenuous  ten- 
derness and  trust.  She  was  about  to  break  the  silence  that  had 
succeeded  Charley's  impassioned  avowal,  when  a  buggy  drove  to 
the  stile,  and  a  gentleman  sprang  hastily  from  it,  and  throwing 
wide  the  gate  entered  the  yard  with  a  rapid  step. 

"•  Oh,  it  is  John  !  My  mother  !  my^other!"  exclaimed  Mary, 
liastening  to  meet  her  brother. 

Her  conjecture  was  but  too  true.  Mrs.  Lawrence  had  grown 
suddenly  much  worse,  and  Dr.  Hardin  had  requested  that  Mary, 
■who  was  her  mother's  nurse  in  her  attacks,  should  be  sent  for. 

In  a  few  moments  Mary  was  bonneted,  ready  to  accompany 
her  brother  to  the  city.     Charley  waited  for  her  in  the  hall. 

"The  ambrotype,  Mary.     Did  you  not  have  it  taken  for  me?" 

She  drew  the  picture  from  her  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  him. 
As  he  received  it  he  detained  her  hand  a  moment,  and  placed  on 
it  a  beautiful  diamond  ring. 

"And  yours,  Charley — am  I  not  to  have  it?" 

"Lu  will  give  it  you,  Mary.  I  left  it  at  the  gallery  to  be  fin- 
ished.    "Write  me.  Miry,  when  I  am  gone." 

She  sweetly  smiled  assent,  a§  she  turned  those  soft  speaking  eyes 
up  to  his.  He  led  her  to  the  stile,  and  kissing  her  burning  cheek, 
assisted  her  into  the  buggy.  The  brother  seated  himself  beside 
her.  A  look  of  love  through  the  fast-falling  tear-drops,  answered 
by  one  which  spoke  far  more  eloquently  than  language  could  have 
done  the  deep  passionate  idolatry  of  Charley's  soul,  and  the  lov- 
ers parted  to  meet — when?     Ah,  when? 

Night  drew  on.  The  busy  preparations  were  completed.  The 
best  horse  was  saddled,  and  brought  to  the  door.  The  mother's 
burdened  heart  was  well-nigh  breaking.  The  father  passed  through 
the  house  with  a  bewildered,  distracted  air,  like  one  seeking  some 
object  which  his  mind  does  not  fully  comprehend.  Lu  was  grave 
to  sadness.  Tenderly  she  loved  her  brother,  and  sadly  her  heart 
was  grieved  at  the  thought  of  his  leaving  home.  But  her  youth- 
ful imagination  clothed  even  her  sorrows  with  the  bright-hued 
tints  of  hope.  And  in  the  future  she  already  saw  her  brother 
receiving  the  honors  and  fame  which  the  brave  patriot  merits. 


20  KAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 

"God  be  with  you,  and  shield  you,  my  son,  in  the  dread  day  of 
battle,"  sobbed  the  weeping  motiier,  as  she  pressed  her  son  to  her 
bosom  in  the  parting  embrace.  She  could  add  no  more.  Her 
heart  was  too  full  for  words.  She  could  only  weep  as  she  held 
him  in  her  arms.     Tiie  father  gave  his  blessing — 

"  God  be  with  you,  Charley.  Remember  the  cause  for  which 
you  go  forth  to  fight,  my  son,  and  may  you  be  spared  to  return 
to  us." 

Lu  kissed  him,  weeping  bitterly,  as  she  threw  her  arras  about 
his  neck,  while  Lilly  and  Willie,  the  youngest-born,  clung  to  him 
as  if  they  would  not  let  him  go.  It  was  a  sad,  solemn  moment — 
one  when  the  heart  forgets  the  past  sorrows  for  the  present,  and 
beats  with  fearful  forebodings  of  the  years  to  come.  Charley  alone, 
of  all  the  group,  looked  out  with  hopeful  eye  on  the  path  before 
him.  Bidding  them  good-by,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  turned 
from  his  home  to  seek  his  way  to  the  Confederate  army. 


OF  MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN. 


SI 


CHAPTER  III. 

FINDING    THE    CAMP. 


The  soft  stars  of  September  studded.the  heavens,  shedding  a 
pale  dreamy  light  over  the  still  earth.  Tlie  night  air  was  chill. 
The  evening  breeze,  which  had  now  increased  to  a  stiff  north 
wind,  swept  southward  from  the  river.  But  neither  the  chas- 
tened  beauty  of  the  one,  nor  the  discomfort  of  the  other,  could 
serve  to  distract  the  thoughts  of  our  young  hero  from  the  glowing 
visions  that  filled  his  mind.  He  was  taking  a  look-out  into  the 
future,  and  with  that  hopefulness  peculiar  to  the  young,  which  all 
the  accumulated  experience  of  the  world,  taught  in  history,  biog- 
raphy, homily,  didactics,  and  the  every-day  life  of  all  who  are 
growing  old,  cannot  school,  warn,  or  overcome,  his  earnest  soul 
was  crowning  that  future  with  fame,  honor,  and  enjoyment.  All 
the  wild  and  brilliant  excitement  of  a  soldier's  life  was  before 
him,  and  his  young  heart  bounded  with  rapturous  exultation  as 
in  imagination  he  dashed  on  through  victorious  conflict  towards 
the  goal  of  his  hopes. 

Alasl  poor,  inexperienced  boy!  He  was  revelling  amid  the 
rainbow  tints  of  fancy.  He  saw  not  the  labored  march,  the  tent- 
less  bivouac,  the  gore  of  the  battle-field,  the  loathsome  prison- 
house.  He  thought  not  of  the  home  he  had  left;  not  of  the  kind 
mother  who  wjrs  even  then  offering  up  a  prayer  for  her  boy's  safe- 
ty ;  not  of  the  indulgent  father,  to  whom  the  long  night-watches 
were  hours  of  restless,  anxious  fear;  not  of  the  loving  sister 
whose  tears  of  afiection  were  then  bedewing  her  sleepless  pillow; 
aye,  even  the  image  of  the  dark-haired,  gentle  Mary  was  momen- 
tarily obscured  by  these  dazzling  phantoms  of  war. 

On  and  on  he  rode,  busy  with  his  own  inspiring  thoughts.  He 
met  only  a  passing  traveller  on  the  journey.  As  day  broke  over 
the  earth,  wearv  and  chilled  he  neared  Bloomfield,  where  he 
expected  to  find'Captain  Jack  Allen,  with  his  men.  He  entered 
the  town  as  the  gray  mists  of  morning  were  lifting  themselves 
from  the  humid  earth.  As  he  approached  the  inn  he  saw  crossing 
the   highway  two  men,  like  himself,  equipped   for  travel.     He 


jSia  KAID3    AXD    ROMANCE 

glanced  at  their  horses.  They  were  jaded,  evidencing  a  long  and 
rapid  ride. 

Without  hesitation,  he  spurred  his  horse  to  their  side. 

"  For  Captain  Allen's  camp  ?" 

Startled,  they  looked  at  him — it  was  l^ut  for  a  moment,  they 
seemed  to  understand  his  mission  as  if  by  intuition — and  bowed 
assent. 

''  Where  is  it  situated  ?" 

"  We  do  not  know,"  answered  the  elder  of  the  two  travellers,  a 
man  of  forty  years  of  age,  and  whom  we  shall  call  Mr.  Bryant, 
*'  nor  have  we  dared  to  ask  any  one  we  have  met." 

''You  do  not  live  in  the  vicinity,  then,  gentlemen?'' 

**  We  have  come  from  Franklin  county  since  yesterday  evening, 
avoiding,  as  far  as  we  could,  all  public  roads,  lest  we  might 
perchance  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Home  Guard.  These  are 
dangerous  times  for  Southern  men  to  be  travelling  in  the  direction 
of  Bowling  Green.     Have  you  no  idea  where  the  camp  is  ?" 

''  None." 

Just  then  the  travellers  passed  a  house  by  the  road-side.  The 
farmer  was  on  the  front  porch.  He  looked  for  a  moment  at  the 
strangers,  stepped  out  and  bowed,  with  a  pleasant  smile.  Mr. 
Roberts  had  seen  many  such  travellers  in  the  last  two  weeks,  and 
he  full  well  understood  their  business. 

"He  looks  like  a  friend,  gentlemen.  I'll  trust  him,"  and 
Charley  reined  up  in  front  of  the  stile. 

"  We  are  seeking  for  Captain  Jack  Allen's  camp,  sir.  Can  you 
direct  us  to  it?" 

''  Captain  Allen  anjd  his  men  have  gone  to  Dixie,  my  friend — 
left  night  before  last." 

"■  Is  it  possible  for  us  to  overtake  them,  sir  ?"  interposed  Mr. 
Bryant.     "  We  wish  to  go  through,  but  fear  to  set  out  alone." 

"  Have  you  no  guide,  gentlemen  ?" 

"  Xone,  sir." 

"  And  do  nojt  know  the  country  ?" 

"  Never  have  passed  over  a  foot  of  the  way." 

'*  Then,  sir,  it  would  be  attended  with  great  danger  to  go  alone 
There  is  a  regiment  of  Lincolnites  at  Lebanon,  another  at  New 
Haven,  and  I  am  told  the  Home  Guard  beyond  are  constantly 
seizing  every  one  whom  they  suspect  of  attempting  to  make  their 
•way  to  Buckner." 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  asked  Charley,  starting  from  his  seat. 
^  I  must  get  through  if  it  cost  me  my  life." 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  23 

''Yon  mnst  all  remaiu  with  me,  gentlemen,  for  the  present," 
responded  Mr.  Roberts.  ''  There  will  be  some  recruits  here  in  a 
few  days,  I  am  told,  a  company  of  men  from  one  of  the  adjoining 
counties.     You  can  go  through  with  thera." 

''Is  there  no  danger  in  doing  this?"  asked  Mr.  Bryant,  hur- 
riedly. ^ 

"  None  in  the  world,  sir.  We  are  all  right  in  this  region.  You 
may  go  where  you  please,  and  say  and  do  what  you  please.  No 
spies  here  in  Dixie.     Not  a  Lincoln  man  in  the  neighborhood." 

The  men  alighted,  and  at  the  kind  invitation  of  their  host  seated 
themselves  before  a  good  suK^kiiig  breakfast. 

Our  young  hero  began  to  realize  that  there  were  dijfficnlties  in 
the  path  to  glory.  But  he  was  not  a  wiiit  daunted.  Naturally 
brave  and  enduring,  with  a  love  for  the  novel  and  exciting,  the 
new-found  trouble  but  heightened  his  zest  and  increased  the 
interest  of  the  undertaking.  He  chatted  pleasantly  of  the  risks 
that  must  everywhere  beset  their  way,  and  reiterated  his  purpose 
to  achieve  his  object  or  perish  in  the  attempt.  It  was  soon 
ascertained  he  was  from  Louisville,  and  many  were  the  questions 
asked  by  his  new  friends  relative  to  the  state  of  affairs  in  that 
Eoted  city. 

"  How  many  troops  have  passed  through  Louisville,  Mr.  R., 
since  Rousseau  brought  his  'Kentucky'  regiment  over  from  Jeffer- 
Bonville?"  asked  the  host,  as  with  his  guests  he  assembled  around 
the  bright  wood  fire  in  the  best  room  of  the  house.  "  I  happened 
to  be  in  the  city  at  the  time  this  quasi-Keutucky  regiment  marclied 
through  on  their  way  to  Elizabethtown,  and,  really,  if  all  of 
Lincoln's  defenders  are  like  that  squad  of  jail-birds  and  wharf- 
rats,  I  think  General  Buckner  can  come  to  Louisville  whenever  he 
gets  ready.  They  can  offer  but  poor  opposition.  "Why,  I  tell  you, 
gentlemen,  there  was  scarcely  a  man  in  the  regiment  that  could 
hold  up  his  head." 

"  Several  regiments  of  Indianians  have  been  sent  forward  since 
then  to  join  Rousseau,  and  many  of  them  were  fine-looking  men. 
They  had  the  air  of  men  who  can  and  will  fight.  I  fear,  sir. 
General  Buckner  will  have  hard  work  to  get  to  our  city.  Troops 
are  now  being  sent  forward  daily." 

"Who  is  this  Colonel  Rousseau  1"  asked  the  yofinger  of  the  two 
men,  who  Uad  hitherto  taken  but  little  part  in  the  conversation 
''He  has  been  figuring  in  Frankfort  for  the  past  few  months,  as  a 
member  of  the  legislature.     I  have  met  him  there  frequently,  and 
have  several  times  heard  him  speak.     He  seems  to  me  to  be  a 


24:  EAroS   AND   ROMANCE 

coarse,  vulgar  man,  devoid  of  honesty  and  of  patriotism  ;  destitute, 
indeed,  of  every  thing  but  bombast  and  selfishness." 

"  Why,  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Roberts,  "  he  was  one  of  the  cap- 
tains in  that  distinguished  Indiana  regiment  that  ran  so  gloriously 
at  Buena  Vista.  You  remember  Jeff.  Davis  called  out  to  his  men 
to  open  their  ranks  and  let  the  flying  Hoosiers  pass,  and  then  huz- 
zaed, '  Come  on,  my  brave  boys,  let  us  retrieve  the  day.'  The 
cowardly  Hoosiers  then  vowed  vengeance  against  Colonel  Davis, 
and  I  suppose  Rousseau  thinks  now  is  a  fine  time  to  pay  off  the 
old  score ;  but,  I  trow,  he  will  have  hard  work  to  wipe  out  the 
disgrace  of  that  day." 

"Do  you  know  his  standing  in  Louisville, Mr.  R.  ?"  interrogated 
the  young  man. 

''  He  commands  but  little  respect,  I  believe,  sir.  I  have  no  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  him.  Indeed,  I  did  not  know  of  his  pres- 
ence in  our  city  until  his  name  was  offered  for  the  State  senate. 
I  have  heard,  since  then,  from  those  who  knew  his  status  at  that 
time,  that  he  was  a  pettifogger,  noted  for  his  impudence  and 
coarseness;  a  hanger-on  at  the  Police  Court  and  around  tlie  Jail, 
making  a  penny  wherever  he  could.  If  a  low  case  was  to  be  tried, 
Rousseau  was  sure  to  be  connected  with  it;  and  would  often, 
when  engaged  in  a  suit,  delay  trial  from  time  to  time,  in  order  to 
extract  money  from  his  unfortunate  opponent  by  way  of  compro- 
mise. I  have  heard  it  said  he  would  suborn  witnesses — creatures 
from  the  most  wretched  classes,  whom  he  appeared  to  know  well 
— and  with  these  as  his  tools,  together  with  his  bluster  and  auda- 
city, would  often  succeed  where  a  more  honest  and  honorable  man 
would  have  entirely  failed." 

"But  how  was  he  elected  to  the  State  senate? — a  man  of  such 
a  character.  "Was  it  not  a  disgrace  to  his  constituents?"  inquired 
the  young  man,  who  appeared  from  some  unknown  reason  to  feel 
either  a  deep  interest  in  Rousseau,  or  an  eager  curiosity  to  ascer- 
tain his  past  history. 

"  There  was  a  vacancy  in  the  State  senate,  caused  by  the  death 
of  one  of  its  members,  and  it  became  necessary  to  elect  a  man  to 
fill  the  unexpired  term.  Rousseau  offered  himself;  there  was  no 
opponent.  He  was  successful,  and  thus,  for  the  first  time  in  Ken- 
tucky, he  found  4iimself  in  position.  This  occurred  before  the 
presidential  election.  The  frequent  called  sessions  of  the  legisla- 
ture, which  became  necessary  from  the  distracted  state  of  the 
country,  and  in  which  he  has  ever  striven  to  make  himself  con- 
spicuous for  'loyalty,'  have  given   him  some  notoriety.     A  few 


OF   MOEGAN   A^D   HIS   ilEX.  t^o 

months  ago,  he  solicited  a  coinmi.>5sion  to  raise  a  regiment.  Of 
course  lie  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  it,  as  he  was  introduced  to 
Lincoln  as  'Captain  Kousseau,'  who  had  fought  gallantly  in  the 
Mexican  war,  and  who  was  now  a  State  senator  from  Kentucky. 
He  bore,  in  addition  to  this,  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  old 
Prentice,  with  whom  he  is  bosom  friend  at  drinking  saloons  and 
wine  parties.  His  zealous  advocacy  of  'The  Government,'  as  the 
measures  of  the  administration  are  now  denominated,  introduced 
liim  to  the  j)resident  as  a  fitting  instrument  to  carry  out  his  pur- 
poses in  our  State. 

With  a  colonel's  commission  in  his  pocket  he  returned  to  Louis- 
ville, and  by  ridding  the  cities  of  New  Albany  and  Jeffersonville 
of  the  outcast  and  outlawed  population,  he  has  secured  a  force 
with  which  he  hopes  to  add  fresh  laurels  to  his  wreath  in  his  pat- 
riotic endeavors  to  'crush  out  this  wicked  rebellion.'" 

"And  this  is  ^ColoneV  Rousseau's  history,  is  it!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Roberts;  "and  it  is  just  as  I  expected,  gentlemen.  I  have  always 
understood  his  character  was  doubtful,  but  I  had  not  known  how 
jnere  circumstances  had  made  him  a  hero.  I  tell  you,  sirs,  that 
nine-tenths  of  these  Kentucky  Federal  officers  are  of  the  same 
stamp  with  Rousseau — little  men  without  one  whit  of  merit — 
made  great  by  the  events  of  the  hour,  and — " 

A  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  Mr.  Roberts  arose  to 
open  it.  As  he  did  so,  he  encountered  a  man  of  medium  height, 
dressed  in  a  suit  of  dark  jeans.  Beside  him  was  a  youth  of  about 
twenty  years  of  age.  The  strangers  bowed,  bidding  him  "Good- 
morning." 

"  Walk  in,  gentlemen,  walk  in,"  said  Mr.  Roberts,  throwing  open 
the  door  and  motioning  them  to  the  fire.  They  stepped  forward, 
descried  the  three  guests,  and  hesitated.  Mr.  R.,  divining  their 
reason,  whispered  to  them,  "All  right,  no  danger;  these  are 
friends." 

"I  call,  Mr.  Roberts,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two,  before  taking 
the  proffered  chair,  "to  ascertain  where  the  rendezvous  is  in  this 
neighborhood  for  Southern  men,  and  whether  there  is  any  proba- 
bility of  getting  through  to  General  Buckner  from  this  point.  I 
learned  in  Bloomfield  that  Captain  Allen  had  left  a  few  days  since, 
but  apprehensive  that  some  difficulty  might  arise  from  further 
questioning  on  this  subject,  I  did  not  make  known  to  my  inform- 
ant the  object  of  my  inquiry." 

Mr,  Roberts,  in  a  few  words,  gave  the  desired  information  to 
the  gentleman,  and  again  requested  them  to  be  seated.     They  were 

2 


26  ,  RAIDS   AXD   KOMANCE 

in  the  act  of  accepting  his  invitation,  when  another  rap  was  heard 
at  the  door.  The  guests  cast  meaning  glances  at  each  other:  sev- 
eral of  them  betrayed  evident  emotion. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  sirs,"  said  Mr.  Roberts,  pleasantly,  observ- 
ing the  trepidation  of  some  of  his  guests.  "  Friends,  no  doubt," 
and  he  opened  the  door  and  ushered  in  the  three  newly  arrived 
strangers. 

"Good-morning,  Captain  Utterback!"  exclaimed  the  eldest  of 
the  three,  a  man  of  about  forty  years  of  age,  with  a  very  pleasant 
countenance,  a  noble  form,  and  a  slight  sprinkle  of  gray  mid  his 
black  hair,  as  he  approached  the  fireside,  and  grasped  the  hand  of 
one  of  the  men  who  rose  to  welcome  him.  "  We  have  overtakeu 
you  at  last,  after  a  weary  ride  over  a  dreadful  road." 

Captain  Utterback,  after  greeting  his  friends,  and  introducing 
them  to  the  gentlemen  present,  called  Mr.  Roberts  aside.  After 
a  few  moments'  conversation  with  the  host,  he  returned  to  the 
room,  and  announced  to  his  men  his  readiness  to  leave. 

Charley  and  his  two  friends  understanding  that  the  captain  was 
going  out  in  search  of  Camp  Secret,  decided  to  accompany  him 
and  his  men. 

"  Any  danger  of  betrayal  from  our  numbers,  Mr.  Roberts  ?"  in- 
quired the  captain. 

"None,  sir,  none.     You  have  no  enemies  in  this  region." 

The  men  mounted  their  horses  and  turned  into  the  soad.  As 
they  did  so,  they  saw  approaching  them  from  the  direction  of  the 
town  a  group  of  four  horsemen,  followed  by  a  buggy  containing 
an  elderly  gentleman  and  a  servant ;  and  yet  a  few  paces  in  the 
rear,  two  others,  whose  horses  looked  jaded  from  travel.  The 
party  halted. 

Captain  Utterback  looked  steadfastly  at  them  for  a  moment. 
"For  camp,  gentlemen?" 

They  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  We  are  just  setting  out  for  that  point,"  pleasantly  remarked 
the  captain,  "  and  if  you  will  receive  our  escort  we  shall  be  most 
happy  to  give  it  you." 

The  oftered  favor  was  most  gladly  accepted,  and  the  men  wheel- 
ed into  line. 

Our  young  hero  was  excited  and  cheered  with  the  animated 
prospect.  Already  had  he  taken  position  beside  the  young  friend 
of  the  captain. 

Tho  party  proceeded  on  the  public  road  about  two  miles  further 
west  of  Bloorafield,  then  suddenly  turning  to  the  right  of  the  high- 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  27 

way,  tljey  passed  through  a  narrow  lane,  succeeded  by  an  open 
fiehl,  tlien  across  a  tiinall  stream,  into  a  dense  forest.  As  they 
were  about  t(^  enter,  they  were  accosted  by  armed  men. 

'•  Who  goes  there?" 

''Friends  of  the  South,"  answered  Captain  Utterback. 

"  Pass  in,  and  follow  the  road,  it  will  lead  you  to  camp,"  was 
the  response  of  the  guard. 

The  horsemen  entered.  Proceeding  a  few  hundred  yards,  they 
came  suddenly  upon  a  large  hollow,  studded  with  small  rail-pens, 
which  were  covered  with  straw. 

''This  is  'Camp  Secret,'  boys,"  said  the  captain,  lifting  his  hat, 
and  giving  three  cheers  for  the  South. 

His  example  was  lustily  followed  by  the  men,  who  made  the 
old  woods  ring  again  with  their  shouts.  A  few  moments  more, 
and  Charley  and  his  friends  found  themselves  "  in  camp,"  for  the 
first  time.  They  saw  there  a  few  armed  men,  whose  business  it 
was  to  guard  the  place. 

There  were  new  arrivals  throughout  the  day,  of  groups  of  two 
and  three,  sometimes  more.  Some  were  on  horseback,  some  on 
foot,  others  in  buggies.  By  evening,  the  camp  presented  a  very 
animated  scene;  new  acquaintances  were  made,  adventures  related, 
jokes  passed — vengeance  against  the  Lincolnites  sworn  by  all. 

Baskets  of  nice,  warm  dinner  mysteriously  appeared  in  their 
midst.  No  one  asked  whence  they  came.  It  was  enough  to  find 
them  there,  with  their  inviting  content^,  ready  to  appease  the 
quickened  appetites.  The  viands  were  spread  and  partaken  of 
with  right  good  zest ;  toasts  were  drank  to  the  downfall  of  the 
Yankees  and  the  success  of  the  South.  '*  Sleeping  apartments" 
were  selected  for  the  night,  straw  couches  arranged,  with  their 
covering  of  blankets  and  overcoats,  and  pillows  of  saddle-bags 
and  carpet-sacks. 

*•'  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Simrall  ?"  said  Charley,  as  a  solo 
horseman  rode  through  the  guard,  and  approached  where  he  was 
standing  beside  young  Wicklifife,  of  Bardstown,  the  two  engaged 
in  earnest  conversation, 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Charley  ?  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you 
here.     On  your  way  to  Dixie,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  sir;  going  out  to  fight  for  the  South.  Will  you  not  join 
our  company,  Mr.  Simrall?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Charley.  I  have  set  ray  face  towards  the  Sunny 
South,  to  link  my  destiny  with  hers,  whether  it  be  for  weal  or 
for  woe." 


28  RAIDS    AIs'D    ROMANCE 

Mr.  Sirarall  di.-^mounted,  and  leading  his  horse  some  paces  from 
where  the  two  young  men  were  resting,  secured  him  to  a  small 
ash-tree,  then  approaching  a  group  of  men  who  were  standing  in 
the  iuclosure  formed  by  rail-pens,  he  made  some  inquiries  relative 
to  the  preparations  necessary  for  the  night,  and  the  probable  stay 
of  the  men  at  "Camp  Secret." 

An  hour  afterwards,  as  Charley  and  young  Wickliffe,  wlio 
already  found  each  other  agreeable  companions,  were  seated  on 
an  old  log  talking  over  the  prospects  before  them,  which  spread 
out  in  fair  enchanting  colors  to  their  youthful  and  now  highly 
excited  imagination,  they  observed  four  horsemen  dash  into 
camp. 

One  was  shghtly  in  advance  of  the  others.  He  was  about 
medium  height,  well-formed,  and  sat  his  horse  with  an  elegance 
not  often  equalled  even  by  the  best  riders.  Every  feature  of  his 
face  bespoke  daring  and  determination.  Ilis  mustache  was 
trimmed  with  exquisite  precision.  The  suit  of  dark  jeans  was 
fitted  to  his  handsome  form,  and  the  immaculate  shirt  collar, 
turned  over  the  narrow  black  neck-tie,  contrasted  well  with  the 
bosom  of  dark  flannel. 

As  he  rode  forward  to  the  group  he  lifted  his  hat,  and  spoke. 
There  was  manly  dignity,  combined  with  graceful  ease,  in  the 
movement.  His  manner  fixed  the  attention  of  our  young  hero, 
who  felt,  he  scarce  knew  why,  an  irresistible  impulse  to  move 
forward  towards  the  stranger.  He  did  so,  followed  by  Mr.  Simrall 
and  young  Wicklifi"e. 

On  approaching  nearer,.Mr.  Wickliffe  recognized  the  stranger — 
it  was  John  H.  Morgan,  of  Lexington. 


OF  MORGAN  AND   lUS   MEN.  29 


CUAPTER    IV. 


FIRST    CAPTURES. 


Vert  soon  after  the  arrival  of  Captain  Morgan  and  his  men  in 
camp,  young  Wickhfte  took  liira  aside,  and  the  two  engaged  for 
eonie  minutes  in  earnest  conversation, 

*'An  excellent  idea,  Mr.  WicklitFe.  The  men  will  then  all  be 
well  armed,  and  we  will  be  more  likely  to  cut  our  way  through  if 
attacked.  You  are  familiar  with  the  cross  route,  and  will  lead  the 
expedition?" 

"  Know  every  foot  of  the  road,  Captain  Morgan.  Have  travelled 
it  many  a  time  when  I  was  a  boy,  after  rabbits  and  squirrels,  and 
nothing  would  please  me  better  than  to  capture  the  Home  Guard, 
dastardly  wretches!  and  give  them  safe  lodgment  in  'Camp 
Secret'  for  a  few  days.  It  would  dissipate  their  patriotism,  I  tell 
you,  sir." 

Several  others,  among  them  Captain  Utterback,  Basil  Duke  and 
Curd,  who  had  accompanied  Morgan  from  Lexington,  and  Captain 
Miner,  were  called,  and  the  matter  laid  before  them.  The  plan 
was  highly  approved  by  them  all ;  and  another  expedition,  for  a 
similar  purpose,  was  set  on  foot,  to  be  carried  out  by  the  Anderson 
county  boys,  headed  by  Duke  and  Curd.  Twenty-five  men  were 
chosen  for  the  dash  upon  Lawrenceburg,  and  thirty-five  to 
accompany  Crisp  Wickliff'e,  the  latter  undertaking  beingVegarded 
as  far  more  hazardous.  Among  this  number  was  Charley,  who 
was  eager  for  an  adventure. 

Every  thing  was  as  speedily  and  quietly  arranged  as  it  was 
possible.  A  strong  spring  wagon,  which  Captain  Morgan's  men 
had  brought  through  from  Lexington,  was  detailed  for  the  enter- 
prise to  Bardstown  to  bring  into  camp  the  captured  guns.  The 
expedition  to  Lawrenceburg  was  to  go  unarmed,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  good  marksmen,  and  the  men  were  to  bring  their 
trophies  with  them. 

Duke  and  his  men  set  out  as  soon  as  the  darkness  of  the  night 
veiled  their  movements.     About  an  hour  and  a  half  later,  vount; 


30  EAIDS   AND   ROMAXCE 

Wickliflfe,  with  liis  thirty-five  followers,  armed  to  the  teeth,  left 
the  camp  and  struck  out  into  the  country.  On  and  on  tliey  went, 
through  farms  and  lanes,  as  fast  as  tlie  rough  nature  of  the  road 
would  allow,  until  they  reached  the  turnpike  leading  into  the  town,' 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  place.  It  was  midnight,  and  as  dark 
as  Erebus.  Ko  moon  gave  her  light,  and  the  stars  were  shut  in 
by  heavy  black  clouds.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  save  that  made 
by  the  tramping  horsemen. 

"  We  must  be  as  noiseless  as  the  tomb,"  said  young  "Wickliflfe  to 
Charley,  who  rode  beside  him.  Every  thing  must  be  done  with 
the  utmost  quiet,  for  if  we  are  betrayed  in  this  matter  we  shall  be 
captured  after  we  set  out  from  Camp  Secret." 

They  proceeded  in  groups  of  four  or  five  on  the  grass-grown 
paths  by  the  roadside — the  w\agon  keeping  a  respectful  distance  in 
the  rear — until  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  town. 

The  men  were  then  halted,  and  Crisp  Wickliflfe,  with  two  others, 
dismounted  and  set  out  to  reconnoitre.  They  proceeded  very 
cautiously  to  the  guard-house,  where  were  deposited  about  one 
hundred  Lincoln  guns,  which  had  been  clandestinely  introduced 
into  the  State. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?"  called  out  the  drowsy  watchman,  as  the 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  roused  him  from  his  unquiet 
slumbers. 

No  answer  was  made.     The  men  advanced. 

"  Halt !  Who  are  you  ?"  cried  the  alarmed  sentinel,  as  he 
seized  his  gun  and  presented  it. 

'"  A  friend,"'  answered  Wickliflfe,  disguising  his  voice.  "I  come 
■with  a  command." 

The  sentinel  lowered  his  gun.  Its  clash  on  the  pavement 
defined  its  position.  Quick  as  thought  young  Wickliflfe  seized  it, 
while  his  companions  took  the  man  in  charge. 

"Not  a  word,  or  your  life  pays  the  forfeit."  The  fellow  hushed 
his  breathing  as  he  felt  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol  at  his  head. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  demanded  Wickliffe  of  his  quaking  prisoner, 
"  how  many  guns  are  here,  and  how  I  can  get  them." 

The  information  was  readily  given,  the  man  feeling  that  thereby 
he  might  purchase  his  life. 

The  three,  with  their  prisoner,  returned  to  the  men.  Ten  of 
the  company,  headed  by  Wicklitie  and  Charley,  and  followed  by 
the  wagon,  returned  to  the  guard-house,  effected  an  entrance, 
secured  the  hundred  guns,  h)aded  the  wagon,  and  in  triumph 
rejoined  their  companions. 


OF   MOEGAN   AND   IIIS   ME2s.  31 

It  was  daylight  when  the  victorious  party  retUMied  to  camp, 
bearing  witli  them  their  poor  atf righted  prisoner.  A  loud  huzza 
went  up  as  tliey  rode  in  with  their  trophies. 

Young  WickhtFe  and  his  men  were  all  heroes,  and  many  a  mess 
was  enlivened  that  morning  with  a  recital  of  their  adventures. 

Tiie  exj)edition  to  Lawreuceburg  was  equally  successful,  and  in 
a  little  while  the  whole  camp  rang  out  in  loud  welcome  as  Duke's 
party  entered,  laden  with  their  spoils.  Each  man  had  two,  and 
some  as  many  as  three  guns,  the  result  of  their  daring.  They  had 
cai)tured  sixty-five  pieces,  and  the  little  camp  found  itself  in  pos- 
session of  arms  enough  for  all  its  unarmed  men,  and  some  to 
spare. 

Thus  handsomely  equipped,  and  each  fearing  that  every 
moment's  delay  added  to  the  hazard  of  the  task  before  them,  it 
was  decided  to  make  immediate  arrangements  for  setting  out  to 
join  Buckner.  After  a  few  minutes'  consultation,  it  was  unani- 
mously agreed,  by  both  soldiers  and  civilians,  that  John  H.  Morgan 
should  lead  the  expedition.  The  position  was  accorded,  as  if  by 
intuition,  to  the  young  and  gallant  captain,  and,  the  promptness 
of  his  acceptance,  and  the  ease  with  which  he  at  once  assumed 
the  responsible  position,  gave  evidence  that  he  was  "born  to  com- 
mand." Throughout  the  day  recruits  were  constantly  coming  in, 
until  the  number  in  camp  was  augmented  to  four  hundred.  Captain 
Morgan  decided  to  set  out  that  evening,  about  sundown,  travel 
all  night,  and  rest  in  some  secluded  spot  through  the  next  day,  if 
it  should  be  found  impracticable  to  proceed  on  their  journey. 

During  the  day,  a  Louisville  journal  was  brought  into  camp  by 
a  friend  from  Bloomfield.  The  men  gathered  round  to  hear  it 
read.  They  had  been  for  two  days  shut  in  from  the  stirring  events 
of  the  seething  world  without, 

"List,  boys,"  called  out  Mr.  Leach,  as  his  eye  ran  down  the 
news  column.  "■  Here  is  a  striking  morsel  of  intelligence  for 
us." 

Pausing  a  moment  for  the  noise  of  merriment  to  subside,  he  ele- 
vated his  voice  to  its  highest  tone,  and  with  great  gravity  read 
the  following  announcement  in  Prentice's  own  words: 

"Capture  of  John  Mokgan. — John  Morgan,  captain  of  a  lit- 
tle secession  company  at  Lexington,  Ky.,  with  his  men,  was  cap- 
tured by  the  Home  Guard,  on  their  way  to  Dixie,  in  search  of  their 
rights.  They  are  now  on  their  route  to  Frankfort,  where  we 
hope  they  will  find  their  rights  and  enjoy  them  to  the  fullest  ex- 
tent." 


32  KATDS   AND   EOMANCE 

"  Well,  John,  yonr  ruse  has  succeeded  admirably,"  said  Dnke 
to  the  captain,  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  breaking  out 
into  a  hearty  laugh,  in  which  he  was  joined  by  all  present.  "  Pren- 
tice is  deceived  this  time,  and  we  are  safe.  You  could  not  have 
made  a  more  capital  hit." 


OF  morgan;  a^d  his  men.  33 


CHAPTER  V. 

SETTING    OUT    FROM    CAMP    SECRET. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  28th  of  September, 
1861.  The  busy  preparations  for  the  march,  which  throughout 
the  day  had  occupied  the  camp,  were  over.  And  the  force  which 
for  four  days  had  been  quietly  assembling  at  "  Camp  Secret,"  were 
in  line,  ready  to  move.  They  were  about  four  hundred  strong. 
Two-thirds  of  the  number  were  mounted,  the  remainder  on  foot. 
But  all  were  well  armed. 

And  there  they  stood,  a  band  of  noble  patriots,  headed  by  their 
brave  and  daring  captain.  Tliey  were  leaving  home  and  friends — 
all  that  made  life  dear  to  them — to  espouse  a  cause  which  the  pop- 
ular voice  pronounced  infamous  and  hopeless.  Branded  as  traitors 
by  the  Legislature  of  their  own  State,  frowned  upon  by  public  sen- 
timent— doomed,  in  the  event  of  failure,  to  the  felon's  cell— no 
roll  of  drum  or  stirring  fife  to  nerve  their  hearts  to  martial  deeds — 
no  waving  flag  presented  amid  the  cheers  and  loud  acclaim  of  an 
excited  multitude,  to  lead  them  on  to  glorious  victory — no  "  God 
speeds"  rung  out  on  the  tumultuous  air  from  friends  and  fellow- 
countrymen — naught,  naught,  save  the  blessing  and  tears  of  kindly 
sympathy  of  the  few  females  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  gath- 
ered to  witness  their  departure. 

Their  pathway  was  beset  with  direst  danger.  An  armed  foe 
before  and  around  them,  vigilant  for  their  capture — a  country  to 
pass  through  almost  impracticable  to  travel — no  prospect  of  pay, 
rations,  or  clothing — the  cause  they  sought  feeble,  struggling  appa- 
rently hopeless — what  had  these  men  to  nerve  them  to  the  un- 
dertaking? Simply  this  heaven-bestowed  motive :  they  believed 
they  icere  right — their  cause  just ;  and  thus  believing,  they  could 
do  and  dare,  suffer  and  die,  rather  than  be  crushed  beneath  the 
fragments  of  a  broken  Constitution,  rent  by  the  hand  of  a  vulgar 
despot. 

Say  you  such  men  can  be  conquered  ?  It  is  impossible.  Fanat- 
icism and  fiendishness  mav  hurl  their  wild  and  lawless  hordes  of 

2* 


34  RAIDS  AXD  eo:mance 

armed  minions  against  them,  but  they  will  be  scattered,  blasted; 
and,  like  the  mighty  hosts  of  Egypt's  proud  monarch,  perish  in 
their  heaven-doomed  undertaking. 

The  word  of  command  was  given,  "  Forward,  march  !"  A  gen- 
eral movement  followed  the  command,  and  from  the  infantry  a 
voice  rang  out  in  notes  sweet  and  clear, 

"  Cheer,  boys,  cheer  ;  we  march  away  to  battle." 

Voice  after  voice  caught  up  the  measure,  until  throughout  the 
ranks  there  peeled  one  loud,  harmonious  strain.  Handkerchiefs 
were  waved  in  response  from  the  group  of  weeping  females,  and 
silent  prayers  offered  there  for  their  success  have  found  answer  in 
a  hundred  victorious  conflicts  since. 

Slowly  they  crossed  the  silvery  stream  that  bounded  their  camp 
in  front.  Casting  one  look  of  parting  on  this  rendezvous  of  patri- 
otism, they  defiled  into  the  narrow  lane  that  led  into  the  main 
road. 

As  the  strains  of  the  chorus  died  out,  a  voice  caught  up  tho 
words, 

"  Though  to  our  homes  we  never  may  return, 
Ne'er  clasp  again  our  loved  ones  to  our  arms, 
O'er  our  lone  grave  some  faithful  heart  will  mourn  : 
Then  cheer,  boys,  cheer  ;  such  death  hath  no  alarms." 

In  buggies  and  on  horseback,  in  the  rear  of  this  band  of  true- 
hearted  men,  followed  a  number  of  citizens.  Doomed  for  opinion's 
sake,  by  the  tyrant  at  Washington,  seconded  by  the  treacherous 
sycophants  of  their  own  State,  they  were  going  out  in  sadness 
from  the  bosom  of  their  families,  preferring  the  sorrows  of  exile 
to  the  horrors  of  imprisonment,  or  the  ignominy  of  a  base  oath 
extorted  from  them  by  cruel  violence. 

Many  a  manly  heart  heaved  with  deep  emotion,  and  many  an 
eye  all  unused  to  weep  was  bedewed  with  tears  as  the  thoughts 
of  home,  with  its  helpless  inmates,  soon  to  be  the  prey  of  a  base 
foe,  rose  up  before  the  mind  of  the  father  and  brother.  Did  not 
the  pitying  eye  of  the  Lord  Jehovah  look  down  upon. this  brave 
band  of  patriots,  and  have  not  the  wrongs  these  freemen  then 
^ndured  come  up  before  Him  in  remembrance,  when  defeat  and 
panic  and  route  have  overtaken  the  insolent  oppressor? 

Pickets  had  been  thrown  out  on  the  Bardstown  pike  six  miles 
ahead.  The  intervening  country  was  friendly,  and  as  the  column 
moved  on  by  th.e  fev.-  farm-houses  that  stood  on  their  route,  sunny- 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  35 

faced  cliiKlren,  with  smiling  matrons,  waved  them  a  blessing,  and 
loudly  cheered  for  '^Jeff.  Davis  and  Buckner." 

The  column  neared  the  Bardstown  turnpike.  It  was  expected 
that  an  encounter  would  take  place  with  the  Home  Guard  at  this 
point.  But  when  Captain  Morgan  reached  the  road,  he  found  it 
in  possession  of  his  pickets,  who  reported  the  w^ay  entirely  clear. 
Falling  into  this  road,  they  proceeded  about  a  quarter  of  a  raile, 
then  suddenly  debouched  to  the  right,  and  entered  upon  what  is 
known  as  the  New  Hope  road.  The  folds  of  night  gathered  over 
them  as  they  took  up  their  line  of  march  along  this  rough,  broken 
route ;  and,  enveloped  in  the  darkness  of  a  starless  night,  they 
felt  secure  from  all  danger  of  the  enemy. 


36  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE    FIRST    NIGHT  S    TRAVEL. 


As  we  Lave  said,  it  was  rnyless  darkness.  Tiiick  clouds  covered 
the  face  of  the  heavens.  The  country  was  hilly,  and,  at  every 
step  of  advance,  the  road  grew  more  difficult.  It  was  hard,  rough 
work  for  these  men,  all  unused  to  midnight  marching.  But  their 
guide — "•  Kit  Carson,"  as  he  had  dubbed  himself — knew  every  step 
of  the  way,  was  fully  acquainted  with  every  turn,  hill,  and  stream, 
and  every  point  likely  to  be  occupied  by  the  Home  Guard,  and  under 
his  direction  the  column  moved  safely  on.  Captain  Morgan  was 
untiring  in  his  endeavors  to  avoid  difficulties  and  cheer  the  men, 
frequently  passing  along  the  entire  lines  to  see  that  all  was  right. 

Charley  had  found  a  very  agreeable  companion  in  "Wood,  of 
Nelson  county,  and  the  two  youthful  heroes  whiled  away  the  dark 
and  chill  night  hours  in  hopeful  lookouts  into  their  future,  and 
scathing  comments  on  a  perjured  administration,  which,  under 
the  name  of  ''  the  best  government  in  the  world,"  was  rapidly 
sweeping  away  every  bulwark  of  liberty. 

The  road,  which  was  scarcely  more  than  a  bridle-path,  lined 
on  either  side  by  thick  underbrush,  interspersed  with  gigantic 
trees,  was,  in  many  parts,  almost  impassable.  It  was  difficult  for 
the  mounted  men.  Those  on  foot  often  lost  their  way  and  strag- 
gled into  the  brush,  while  a  buggy  unfortunately  veering  to  the 
right  or  left  found  itself  suddenly  brought  to  a  stand-still  by  a  tree 
or  a  clump  of  scraggy  black-jacks,  and  the  only  alternative  was 
for  the  footmen  to  lift  the  vehicle  back  into  the  narrow  road. 
Then  the  way  to  the  main  road  had  to  be  felt,  and  there  was  no 
range  in  which  to  turn. 

There  was  a  man  of  the  party  endeavoring  to  take  through  a 
lot  of  twenty-five  mules.  When  day  dawned,  he  found  himself 
with  only  three  of  the  pesky  creatures  left. 

There  was  an  old  man  in  company,  Mr.  Johnson,  of  Arkansas, 
who  afi'orded  great  amusement  to  those  in  his  immediate  vicinity. 
He  had  been  spending  the  summer  in  Kentucky,  and  delaying  too 


OF    MORGAN    AXD    IIIS    MKN.  37 

lonfr,  had  been  cau^'ht  by  the  blockade  of  the  railroad,  and  was 
driven  to  seek  his  home  by  this  dreadful  route.  The  old  gentle- 
man was  out  of  health,  impatient,  and  wicked. 

He  was  driven  by  his  servant-man,  Bob,  a  boy  the  old  man 
})riz(.'d  highly.  Bob  knew  his  master's  peculiarities,  and  how  to 
humor  his  tits  of  passicm. 

As  the  ditficulties  increased,  the  old  man  grew  more  and  more 
excited,  then  petulant,  and  then,  unable  to  restrain  his  wrath 
longer,  he  burst  forth  into  a  most  furious  invective  against  all 
living  flesh.  Just  at  this  juncture  the  horse  made  a  misstep,  the 
buggy  struck  a  tremendous  rock,  the  old  man  was  unseated,  and 
had  not  Bob  caught  him,  he  would  have  been  dashed  headlong 
from  the  vehicle. 

"I  wish  to  God  Jeff.  Davis,  Abe  Lincoln,  all  the  cussed  politi- 
cians— yes,  and  the  whole  world,  was  miles  deep  in  hell,"  he  ex- 
claimed in  the  very  fulness  of  his  phrensy, 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir,  don't,  I  beseech  you,  place  us  in  that  horrid 
region,"  called  out  his  fellow-traveller,  in  advance,  highly  amused 
at  the  fidgety  old  Southerner.  "I  have  left  a  wife  and  children 
in  Louisville,  sir,  and  I  do  hope  they  will  be  spared  this  dreadful 
fate." 

The  old  man  could  not  be  appeased.  He  continued  to  pour 
anathema-maranathas  on  all  creation. 

About  midnight.  Captain  Morgan  rode  along  the  lines,  announ- 
cing the  approach  to  the  Rolling  Fork,  a  deep,  and  rocky  stream, 
the  passage  of  which  would  be  attended  with  delay,  perhaps  with 
difficulty  and  danger.  When  old  Mr.  Johnson  heard  this,  he  seized 
the  reins,  drew  himself  up  to  the  fullest  height,  and  ''swore  he 
would  never  die  content  until  every  man  who  had  brought  about 
this  cussed  state  of  affairs  had  had  his  head  taken  olf  smack  and 
smooth." 

"•Now,  Bob,  I  tell  you,  boy,"  he  said  most  emphatically,  as  he 
handed  Bob  the  lines,  ''if  you  do  drown  me,  Bob,  I'll  shoot  you — 
Do  you  hear  me,  Bob  ?  Hold^^your  reins  tight,  and  follow  close  to 
that  buggy." 

*'  Yes,  sar — yes,  sar,  master  :  Til  take  you  through  safe,  sar.  If 
anybody  can  git  you  through.  Bob  can.  Don't  be  skeered,  mas- 
ter; I'll  git  you  through,  sar." 

The  Rolling  Fork  is  a  branch  of  "old  Salt  River" — as  it  is  gen- 
erally called — that  stream  so  famed  in  Kentucky's  annals,  of  which 
poets  have  sung  and  politicians  jested. 

The  "Fork^'  is  a  deep  and  fearful  current,  and  at  the  point 


38  KAIDS   AXD   EOMANCE 

-where  the  column  had  to  cross  it,  a  high  hill  rises  abruptly  on  the 
southern  bank.  Lights  had  been  placed  by  friendly  hands  on  each 
side  of  the  stream  to  guide  the  men  in  their  passage.  The  blazing 
pine-knots  threw  a  vivid  glare  over  the  dark  and  sullen  waters, 
and  gave  the  outline  of  the  frowning  hill  in  front. 

"  'Halt !'  rang  out  through  the  lines.  Footmen  were  ordered  to 
mount  behind  the  men  on  horseback,  that  there  might  be  no  un- 
necessary delay.  Captain  Morgan  rode  to  the  rear  to  see  that  all 
was  in  readiness.  Gaining  the  front,  he  ordered  the  guide  to  ad- 
vance. Kit  Carson  plunged  into  the  stream  and  reached  the  op- 
posite bank.  Captain  Morgan  and  Lieutenant  Dtike  followed. 
"Advance!"  and  horseman  following  horseman  dashed  in  and 
crossed  over.  Now  came  the  buggies.  Captain  Morgan  returned 
to  the  middle  of  the  stream  and  remained  there  to  direct  their 
movements. 

At  last  old  Mr.  Johnson's  time  came.  "With  fierce  and  loud 
imprecations  he  essayed  to  follow.  Midway  the  stream,  his  horse 
losing  his  footing,  plunged  furiously. 

"Oil!  my  God!  I'm  gone!  I'm  gone!  Bob,  if  I  am  drov.ned 
I'll  have  you  hung.  Do  you  hear  that,  boy?  Hold  that  horse, 
or  we'll  be  at  the  bottom  of  this  cussed  creek  in  a  minute. 

A  loud  peal  of  laughter  rang  from  the  shore  as  the  old  man, 
with  these  last  words  on  his  lips,  emerged  weezing  and  puffing 
from  the  "  cussed  creek." 

The  road  was  so  steep  and  rocky  that  horses  had  to  be  taken 
from  the  provision-wagons,  and  the  wagons  lifted  by  the  men  to 
the  brow  of  the  hill. 

Bob,  with  the  assistance  of  others,  succeeded  in  getting  his 
master  over  all  immediate  difficulties,  the  old  man  screaming  out 
all  the  time,  "  Now,  Bob,  if  you  do  kill  me,  I'll  have  you  hung,  boy. 
Do  you  hear  that,  Bob  ?" 

The  road  was  worse  now  than  ever.  They  had  struck  a  spur 
of  the  ridge,  of  which  Muldrough's  Hill  is  the  most  noted.  On 
thev  went  as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  route  would  admit,  nothing 
of  interest  occurring  until  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
when  Captain  Morgan  dashed  along  the  hnes  bidding  the  men  to 
be  silent — not  to  speak  above  a  whisper,  as  it  was  feared  they 
were  in  the  neighborhood  of  some  Home  Guard  pickets. 

The  column  was  halted,  scouts  were  thrown  in  advance,  headed 
by  Captain  Morgan  and  led  by  Kit  Carson. 

After  a  hasty  reconnoissance,  they  returned  and  reported  "No 
danger."  The  way  was  now  supposed  clear  of  all  obstacles,  and, 
as  the  rond  improved,  they  quickened  their  pace. 


OF  MORGAN  AKD   HIS   MEN.  39 

At  (Liylight  they  crossed  the  Lebanon  branch  of  the  railroad. 
It  was  expected  to  liave  a  skirmish  here  with  the  Guard,  who  had 
captured  six  of  Cai)tain  Jack  Allen's  company  at  this  point  a  few 
days  before.  But  not  a  soul  was  seen  up  and  down  the  road  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

In  tliree  hours  more  they  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  friends, 
vrhere  they  halted  to  refresh  themselves  and  feed  their  horses.  It 
was  found  that  three  men  were  missing  from  their  number.  What 
befell  them  could  never  be  ascertained.  The  party  was  now  be- 
yond the  enemy's  lines. 

Tiiat  night  they  encamped  near  Uodgenville,  in  La  Rue  County. 
As  this  was  a  hostile  section,  they  found  great  difficulty  in  })ro- 
curing  food  for  themselves  and  horses.  They  succeeded  in  pur- 
chasing some  corn-bread  and  meat,  which,  added  to  their  stock 
on  hand,  served  to  stay  their  appetite  for  the  night. 

E;irly  the  next  morning  (Monday)  they  set  out  for  the  Confeder- 
ate encampment  on  Green  river,  opposite  Mumfordsville.  And 
as  they  felt  themselves  freed  from  all  apprehensions  of  attack, 
each  one  breathed  more  freely,  and  joke  and  laugh  resounded 
along  those  ranks  of  weary  yet  determined  men. 

Not  knowing  but  that  a  force  of  the  enemy  might  endeavor  to 
cajiture  him  in  the  vicinity  of  Green  river.  Captain  Morgan  very 
wisely  sent  forward  videttes  to  see  that  the  route  was  clear.  It 
had  become  known  in  the  encampment  that  Morgan  and  his  men 
would  reach  the  river  that  evening,  and  it  had  been  decided  to 
send  out  an  escort  to  conduct  them  in.  Accordingly,  Major 
Wintersmith,  with  two  others,  crossed  the  river  and  proceeded  a 
few  miles  in  the  direction  of  the  expected  advance.  They  had 
rode  but  a  short  distance,  before  they  perceived  two  men  ap- 
proaching them.  They  were  well  mounted,  and  their  guns  were 
carelessly  depending  from  their  shoulder. 

"Halt!"  cried  out  the  major,  as  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently 
near  to  make  himself  heard. 

The  men  thus  accosted  reined  in  their  horses,  dropped  their 
bridles,  seized  their  guns,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  were 
ready  to  fire  upon  their  supposed  enemy. 

''Friends!"  cried  out  the  major,  just  in  time  to  save  himself 
and  companion  from  the  unerring  bullet  of  the  riflemen.  •'  We 
come  to  meet  Captain  Morgan." 

Instantly  the  guns  Avere  lowered,  and  the  two  rode  forward.  A 
moment  more  and  the  parties  had  alighted,  hands  were  grasped 
in  friendly  greeting,  and  welcomes  extended  in  the  name  of  the 


40  EAEDS   AXD   EOMAXCE 

Second  Kentucky — Colonel  Hanson's  noted  regiment — to  Captain 
Morgan  and  his  brave  followers. 

An  hour  more  and  the  whole  force  had  crossed  the  river,  and 
in  a  style  at  once  dashing  and  impressive,  rode  into  cam[). 

Loud  and  long  and  pealing  were  the  shouts  of  welcome  sent  up 
by  the  Kentucky  boys,  as  they  beheld  this  large  reinforcement  to 
their  numbers.  Hats  were  flung  high  in  the  air,  and  their  cheers 
for  old  Kentucky  echoed  and  re-echoed  along  those  grand  old 
hills,  while  '*  Cheer,  boys,  cheer" — their  battle-song— burst  in 
joyous  notes  from  groups  gathered  around  the  newly  arrived 
friends. 

There  were  stationed  at  this  point,  in  addition  to  Colonel 
Hanson's  regiment.  Captain  Jack  Allen  and  his  men,  besides 
liundreds  of  others  who  had  found  their  way  thither  from  different 
parts  of  the  State. 

Charley  recognized  in  Colonel  Hanson's  regiment  many  of  his 
old  friends  who  had  left  Louisville  some  months  before,  for  Camp 
Boone,  among  them  Adjutant  Frank  Tryon,  young  Benedict  and 
Delph,  who  hailed  his  arrival  w'ith  open  arms. 

Our  young  hero,  eager  for  an  opportunity  to  serve  his  country's 
cause,  soon  enlisted  in  Company  C,  of  the  Second  Kentucky,  and 
entered  immediately  upon  the  duties  of  a  soldier.  Others  joined 
the  Second  Kentucky,  while  most  of  the  men  found  their  way  into 
the  regiments  of  Colonels  Hunt  and  Lewis. 

Captain  Morgan  and  his  company  of  forty  men  did  not  unite 
themselves  to  any  command.  Morgan  wished  to  act  as  a  partisan 
ranger,  and  addressed  General  Buckner  a  note,  asking  to  be  allowed 
to  serve  in  this  capacity.  But  it  not  being  deemed  prudent  to 
grant  the  request,  and  Morgan  not  wishing  to  be  a  burden  to  the 
cause,  moved  his  men  to  the  north  bank  of  the  river,  rented  a 
vacant  house  for  them,  and  provided  for  all  their  wants.  TTith 
this  as  his  headquarters,  he  made  the  country  between  Green 
river  and  Bacon  creek  the  scene  of  many  a  daring  exploit,  which 
history  will  yet  record  to  the  honor  of  John  Morgan,  Kentucky's 
noblest  chieftain. 


OF   MOEGAN    AXD    HIS   MEN.  41 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    ESCAPE    OP    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN    FROM    LEXINGTON,    AS 
GIVEN    BY    ONE    OF    THE    PARTV. 

Camp  FIRES  were  blazing  brightly.  The  cold  and  silent  stars 
looked  out  from  their  far-off  blue  home  in  heaven  upon  the  quiet 
scene.  The  soft  moonlight  kissed  the  cold  earth  and  lay  in  silvery 
sheets  of  beauty  on  the  bosom  of  the  gently  stealing  river.  Silence 
had  thrown  its  deep  spell  on  every  object,  only  broken  at  long 
intervals  by  the  low  monotone  of  the  watch-dog. 

Two  men  threw  themselves  beneath  a  large  tree  in  front  of  a 
tent  door,  near  one  of  the  camp-tires. 

"1  will  tell  you,  Will,  the  wiiole  story,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
younger  to  the  question  of  his  friend.  "  We  have  had  a  hard  time 
getting  through  to  join  this  Southern  cause,  and  I  think  with 
Morgan  that  we  have  a  right  to  serve  it  as  we  think  best.  We 
had  a  company  of  sixty  men,  well  drilled  and  well  armed.  John 
Morgan  was  our  captain,  and  Basil  Duke  whom  you  have  seen 
with  us  here,  was  first-lieutenant.  Our  intention  was  to  serve 
our  State, — to  drive  from  her  borders  any  foe  that  dared  invade 
her  soil.  An  order  came  to  disarm  the  State  Guard.  We  had 
long  been  objects  of  suspicion  by  blinded  Union  men,  who  had,  in 
various  epithets  conferred  upon  us,  spoken  out  their  disapprobation 
of  our  course.  The  Home  Guard,  under  a  Captain  Woodson  Price, 
who  was  more  distinguished  for  his  artistic  taste  than  good  sense, 
had  uttered  base  threats  against  us.  This,  of  course,  we  did  not 
hec-d.  But  when  that  infamous  craven  legislature  at  Frankfort 
invited  Anderson  into  Kentucky,  and  placed  Crittenden  in  com- 
mand of  the  militia  of  the  State,  we  saw  what  awaited  all  Southern 
men.  Our  company,  of  course,  disbanded  to  avoid  suspicion.  As 
soon  as  General  Buckner  reached  Bowling  Green,  Captain  Morgan 
decided  to  join  him.  He  made  his  purpose  known  to  as  many  as 
he  could  meet,  and  they  to  others.  It  was  assented  to  by  a  largo 
•majority.  Preparations  for  leaving  were  secretly  made.  Each 
man  had  secured  his  gun  and  determined  never  to  yield  it,  though 
he  should  die  for  refusing  to  do  so. 


42  RAIDS   AND   EO-\rAXCE 

"  We  met  at  our  secret  rendezvous  from  night  to  night,  and 
reported  progress.  It  was  deemed  most  prudent  to  leave  the  city 
in  companies  of  two  or  three,  at  different  hours  and  by  different 
routes,  thus  avoiding  suspicion.  We  assembled  at  Lawrenceburg. 
Our  arrangements  for  provisions  were  intrusted  to  one  of  tiie 
company  whom  we  knew  to  possess  remarkable  spirit  ^nd  tact. 
As  we  passed  along  the  streets  we  could  hear  threats  pronounced 
against  John  Morgan  and  his  men,  and  it  was  said  currently  and 
believed,  that  the  most  prominent  of  us  were  to  be  arrested.  This 
we  determined  to  avoid.  The  day  appointed  for  setting  out  at 
length  came  round.  Captain  Morgan  found  liynself  narrowly 
watched,  and  was  compelled  to  leave  Lexington  on  foot,  and  meet 
a  friend  with  his  horse  beyond  the  city  limits.  Others  of  us  had 
to  pretend  we  were  going  to  Paris  and  Georgetown  on  business. 

"On  departing,  we  could  bring  nothing  with  us  that  would 
jeopardize  us,  so  we  had  to  leave  our  baggage  and  gtins  to  our 
friends  who  were  less  suspected,  and  who  were  to  come  out  at 
night.  Some  were  to  leave  Wednesday,  some  that  night,  and 
others  less  noted  not  until  Thursday.  Our  plan^succeeded  ad- 
mirably. I  believe  not  one,  who  set  out  for  Camp  Secret,  has 
been  arrested  yet. 

"In  the  course  of  twenty-four  hours  after  Morgan  entered  Law- 
renceburg, he  found  himself  at  the  head  of  fifty  men.  We  remain- 
ed there  a  few  hours  awaiting  others  whom  he  hoped  would  join 
us.  Some  of  our  bravest  men  are  behind.  But  they  had  large 
families,  and  I  suppose  felt  they  could  not  leave  them.  At  Law- 
renceburg, Morgan  hired  a  man  he  could  rely  upon,  and  sent  him 
to  Louisville  to  inform  old  Prentice  that  he  and  his  men  had  been 
captured." 

''That  was  a  happy  ruse^  indeed,"  interrupted  the  eager  listen- 
er. "I  am  convinced,  after  hearing  your  story,  that  Captain 
Morgan  should  be  left  to  pursue  his  own  course.  He  can  aid  the 
cause  in  Kentucky,  perhaps,  better  than  any  other  man.  His 
family  influence  is  extensive.  He  can  command  money,  is  ac- 
quainted with  the  State,  and,  above  all,  is  a  man  of  decision,  en- 
ergy, and  daring," 

Weeks  passed  by.  Charley  had  become  measurably  inured  to 
the  duties  of  a  soldier's  life.  He  could  stand  on  picket  or  guard, 
go  scouting  or  foraging,  make  coffee  or  corn-bread.  Prompt,  obe- 
dient, kind,  he  won  the  respect  of  his  officers,  and  the  esteem  of 
his  fellow-soldiers,  and  his  faithfulness  and  daring  had  obtained 
the  favorable  notice  of  his  colonel. 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  43 

His  letters  to  his  friends  at  home  were  characterized  by  a  sj)irit 
of  clieerfiH  endurance  of  present  discipline,  and  heroic  determina- 
tion to  make  good  his  cause  in  the  field  of  conflict.  Hopeful, 
buoyant,  he  gilded  the  future  with  the  bright  hues  of  joyous 
expectancy,  yet  he  realized  that  the  life  he  had  chosen  was  one  of 
labor  and  hardship.  "We  shall  have  to  endure  many  trials,  ^^ 
motlier,  suffer  many  privations,  make  many  sacrifices,  but  we  shall  ^m 
conquer,  shall  surely  triumph;  the  justice  of  our  cause  insures 
success.  There  is  not  a  man  in  our  regiment  that  would  not 
prefer  death  to  submission."  His  letters  to  Mary  breathed  the 
same  spirit  of  hope  and  confidence,  tempered,  liowever,  by  a  feel- 
ing of  sadness  at  their  separation,  and  an  earnest  desire  that  their 
meeting  migiit  not  be  far  distant. 

Poor  Mary!  Over  her  young  loving  heart  there  had  crept  a 
shadow.  And  she  who  through  life  had  ever  been  so  joyous,  so 
happy,  was  now  sad  and  thoughtful.  Most  of  her  time  was 
passed  with  her  mother,  whose  health  grew  daily  more  feeble,  and 
who  clung  to  her  child  with  that  feeling  of  dependence  which 
the  weak  manifest  towards  the  strong. 

Meanwhile  the  Lincoln  hordes  were  pouring  into  Kentucky, 
possessing  themselves  of  every  point  deemed  important  to  their 
purpose  of  subjugation.  The  great  heart  of  the  State  stood  still 
before  the  unfoldings  of  the  dread  panorama.  And  those  whose 
voice  had  been  for  ''Union"  at  the  polls  and  in  private,  now 
began,  with  fearful  forebodings,  to  ask  themselves  if  the  bayonet 
would  accomplish  the  desired  end.  But  what  could  be  done  ? 
They  had  courted  the  oppression  of  the  tyrant ;  had  forged  the 
fetters  that  enchained  them.  And  now  they  stood  helpless,  hope- 
less, the  victims  of  their  own  pusillanimity  and  avarice.  While 
those  who  had  ever  opposed  the  coercion  of  free  and  sovereign 
States  as  the  overthrow  of  civil  liberty  and  constitutional  right, 
robbed  of  their  arms  and  of  every  privilege  of  freemen,  denounced 
as  traitors,  watched  in  every  word  and  act,  realizing  that  any 
show  of  resistance  would  be  sheer  folly,  suffered  themselves  to  be 
borne  along  by  the  current,  and  even  swept  into  the  fearful  vor- 
tex. Better  far  had  they  resisted  in  the  outset,  and  driven  the 
invader  back  from  the  banks  of  the  Ohio. 

Poor  degraded,  subjugated  Kentucky  !  Thine  is  a  sad  story  of 
vacillation  and  fear;  of  wrong  and  oppression.  Tlie  faithful 
chronicler  of  this  wicked  war  must  pen  with  shame  and  regret  thy 
irresolution,  and  its  ruinous  results.  While  I  write,  as  one  of  thy 
children,  I  weep  as  my  thoughts  go  back  to  thee  in  thy  deep 


44  RAroS    AXD   KOMAXCE 

humiliation,  and  linger  amid  thj  once  lovely  scenes — thy  once 
free  and  happy  sons  and  daughters,  now  so  oppressed,  so  down- 
trodden. But  thou  wilt  arise  from  thy  fallen  position.  Even 
■while  I  "weep,  the  glad  tidings  comes  sweeping  in  the  breeze, 
"Kentucky  determines  to  be  free!"  And  now,  at  the  last  hour, 
thou  wilt  break  the  chains  that  bind  thee,  and  wilt  stand  ranged 
with  thy  Southern  sisters,  proudly  free,  determinedly  defiant. 

A  vote  of  a  party  legislature  had  invited  Anderson,  of  Sumter 
notoriety,  into  the  State  to  take  charge  of  the  troops  within  her 
borders'.  This  was  a  cunning  pretext  to  open  the  way  for  the  for- 
midable army  that  was  soon  to  be  thrown  against  Buckner  at 
Bowling  Green.  The  purpose  of  the  Lincolnite  dynasty  had  been 
served,  and  Anderson,  the  man  of  an  hour,  the  fool  of  an  unprin- 
cipled party,  had  been  superseded  by  Buell,  who  was  concentra- 
ting his  force  as  rapidly  as  possible,  in  front  of  Bowling  Green. 
His  advance,  under  Rousseau,  already  extended  beyond  Elizabeth- 
town,  and  between  that  point  and  Louisville  troops  were  being 
massed  in  numbers.  Paducah,  Smithland,  and  several  interior 
towns  were  already  in  their  possession. 

Major  Breckinridge,  having  made  his  escape  through  the  Federal 
lines,  had  reached  Bowling  Green,  and  there,  in  an  address  to  tlie 
people  of  Kentucky,  resigned  his  seat  in  the  Federal  congress, 
and  announced  himself  ready  to  serve  the  Southern  cause  in  what- 
ever position  might  be  assigned  him.  He  received  the  commis- 
sion of  brigadier-general,  and  the  Kentucky  regiments  were 
formed  into  a  brigade,  of  which  he  was  given  the  command. 
Hanson's  force  was  recalled  to  Bowling  Green,  and  General  Hind- 
man  thrown  into  position  at  Green  river. 

It  was  proposed  to  establish  a  Provisional  Government  for  Ken- 
tucky, that  she  might  be  represented  in  the  Confederate  congress. 
It  was  decided  the  Convention  for  that  purpose  should  meet  at 
Russellville.  The  Federal  authorities  heard  of  the  movement,  and 
declared  the  Convention  should  never  assemble,  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  throw  Crittenden's  force  so  as  to  menace  Russellville, 
and  prevent  the  proposed  meeting.  General  Buckner,  learning  the 
Federal  programme,  ordered  Breckinridge  to  move  from  Bowling 
Green  to  Russellville. 

It  was  the  middle  of  ]:s'ovember  when  Breckinridge  and  his 
command  set  out  for  Russellville.  The  weather  was  cold  and 
damp,  and  the  roads  muddy.  It  was  the  first  marching  his  troops 
had  done;  but  his  men  bore  it  like  veterans,  and  not  a  word  of 
complaint  was  heard  throughout  the  lines. 


OF   MOKGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  45 

Charley  now  began  to  experience  something  of  the  hardships  of 
the  campaign  before  him.  As  he  threw  himseU*  on  his  bhinket, 
weary  with  the  fatigne  of  the  day's  march,  and  looked  up  into  the 
face  of  tiie  bending  heavens  above  him,  thougiits  of  home  and  its 
comforts,  of  its  loved  ones  whom  he  might  never  again  behold, 
stirred  the  deep  depths  of  his  soul.  Tears  sprung  to  his  eyes,  and 
he  wept  like  a  child.  It  was  not  sorrow  nor  apprehension,  but 
tender  remembrances  of  the  past  that  caused  him  Uius  to  grieve. 
There  he  lay  thinking,  his  bosom  heaving  with  varied  emotions, 
his  wearied  frame  stretched  out  on  the  hard  ground,  with  no  cover 
from  the  cold  night  air  but  his  blanket  wrapped  around  him,  his 
knapsack  for  a  pillow.  As  he  dwelt  on  the  wrongs  inflicted  on 
his  State,  the  insolence  of  the  oppressor,  the  sufferings  that  must 
necessarily  follow  in  the  train  of  horrid  war,  then  turned  to  the 
insulted  South,  noble  in  her  determination,  heroic  in  her  struggle, 
his  iieart  grew  strong  within  him,  his  physical  sufterings  were  for- 
gotten, he  heeded  not  his  cold,  hard  bed,  thought  not  of  his  empty 
haversack,  dreaded  not  the  bloody  battle-field. 

Jhe  Convention  assembled,  protected  by  those  gallant  men  who 
fully  thwarted  the  plans  of  the  Federals,  keeping  them  at  bay. 
About  seventy  counties  were  represented  in  the  body.  Resolu- 
tions were  ad()i)ted,  declaring  that  in  view  of  the  unconstitutional 
acts  of  the  administration  at  Washington,  and  the  belief  that  the 
war  was  one  of  usurpation  and  subjugation,  Kentucky,  as  a  sov- 
ereign State,  had  a  right  to  withdraw  herself  from  the  Federal 
compact,  and  choose  her  own  position. 

Oh  the  19th  of  November,  the  Ordinance  of  Secession  was 
passed.  George  W.  Johnson  was  made  Provisional  Governor, 
and  members  to  the  Confederate  congress  were  appointed  from 
every  district  in  the  State  represented  in  the  Convention. 

The  Assembly  having  adjourned,  Breckinridge,  with  his  forces, 
was  ordered  back  to  Bowling  Green.  After  remaining  there  for 
some  days,  the  order  was  given  that  they  should  go  back  to  Roch- 
ester, a  point  on  Green  river,  in  Butler  county,  in  order  to  pre 
vent  a  supposed  flank  movement  of  the  Federals. 
*  From  Rochester  they  returned  to  Bowling  Green,  and  proceed- 
ed to  Cave  City,  where,  after  remaining  for  several  weeks,  they 
were  dispatched  to  Glasgow,  to  intercept  an  anticipated  move- 
ment of  the  enemy  in  that  direction.  The  rain  poured  in 
torrents,  freezing  as  it  fell.  The  men  were  drenched  through 
and  through,  as  they  ploughed  through  the  dreadful  roads,  knee- 
deep  in  mud.     On  and  on  they  trudged,  over  ma:ny  a  weary 


4G  EAIDS    AND    KOMAXCE 

mile,  dripping  with  wet,  shivering  with  cold,  ready  to  sink  with 
futigue. 

Tlie  ahirm  was  false,  and  after  they  had  proceeded  one-third  of 
the  way,  a  courier  came  to  countermand  the  order.  Back  the 
wh(tle  force  was  turned,  to  retrace  the  miserable  road.  The  men 
were  sorely  tried  under  this  unnecessary  experience,  and  thtir 
displeasure  found  vent  in  bitter  murmurings. 

Many  a  "narrow  house"  at  Bowling  Green,  all  unmarked  by 
love's  kind  hand,  tells  the  sad  tale  of  this  dreadful  march.  And 
in  many  a  quiet  churchyard  and  family  burying-ground  through- 
out Kentucky,  the  stricken  mourner  bends  over  the  quiet  dust  of 
the  loved  one  lost,  whose  life  was  there  sacrificed. 

Our  young  hero  had  a  fine  constitution,  which  had  been  well 
preserved  and  developed.  But  those  drenching  marches  had 
sorely  tried  it,  and  its  vigor  and  power  had  finally  to  succumb 
before  the  insidious  advance  of  disease,  which  first  manifested 
itself  in  a  slight  cold,  and  then  rapidly  developed  itself  into  a 
severe  attack  of  pneumonia.  Now  rose  up  before  his  fevered 
'iinngination  all  the  horrors  of  the  hospital,  with  its  tearful  suffer- 
ings, its  almost  certain  death. 

"  Oh,  do  not  take  me  there!"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  gloomy 
building  that  stood  before  him.     "Leave  me  here  to  die." 

Through  the  exertions  of  Lieutenant  Tryon,  a  bed  was  procured 
for  him  in  a  private  house,  to  which  he  was  borne,  and  where  he 
was  as  carefully  attended  as  circumstances  would  admit.  There 
was  a  great  deal  of  sickness  in  the  army  at  Bowling  Green,  and 
every  house  was  filled  with  the  sufferers.  Measles,  fever,  and 
pneumonia  prevailed  most  fearfully. 

Charley  grew  rapidly  worse.  His  symptoms  were  of  the  most 
alarming  nature.  His  physician.  Dr.  Lindley,  pronounced  the 
case  as  one  of  a  malignant  character,  and  gave  but  little  encourage- 
ment to  hope  for  his  recovery.  A  friend  of  Charley's,  from 
Louisville,  being  informed  of  his  situation,  sought  him  our,  that  he 
might  minister  to  his  sufferings.  This  gentleman  found  him  in  a 
small  unventilated  room,  where  lay  three  other  sick  soldiers,  two 
on  the  floor,  one  in  the  bed  beside  Charley. 

The  air  was  foul  with  the  fumes  of  tobacco,  while  the  greatest 
untidiness  and  neglect  were  everywhere  visibl«.  Charley  was 
wild  with  fever.  He,  of  course,  required  the  most  profound  quiet, 
and  yet  a  band  of  musicians  was  quartered  in  the  building,  and 
ever  at 'their  ])lea?ure  they  made  the  air  resonant  with  their  martial 
rehearsals.    The  kind  friend  found  be  must  certainly  die  if  left  to 


OF   MORGAIT   AND    HIS    SIEN.  47 

remain  in  that  dreadful  condition,  and  determined  to  hazard  his 
removal,  despite  the  assertion  of  the  physician,  who  declared  im- 
peratively that  such  an  act  would  be  followed  by  certain  death. 

An  apartment  was  secured  away  from  the  noise  and  confusion 
of  the  town,  and  thither  Charley  was  taken.  A  skilful  nurse  was 
procured,  and  after  weeks  of  pain  and  feebleness,  he  so  far  re- 
covered MS  to  be  pronounced  beyond  danger. 

It  was  a  cold,  bleak  morning  in  December.  The  snow,  wliich 
had  fallen  the  i)revious  night,  covered  the  earth  with  its  white 
mantle  of  purity.  The  sun  shone  brilliantly  out  from  the  cloudless 
heavens,  and  as  his  golden  beams  fell  over  the  earth,  they  awoke 
to  life  a  flood  of  glorious  radiance  most  beautiful  to  behold.  The 
majestic  trees,  draped  in  their  robes  immaculate,  caught  up  the 
dazzling  etfulgence,  and  sent  it  back  in  prismal  loveliness  over  hill 
and  plain  and  ice-clad  brook. 

Charley  sat,  a  convalescent,  beside  the  hugely  blazing  log-fire, 
which,  sparkling  and  crackling  as  if  in  merriment,  sent  its  dancing 
flames,  of  fiery  hue,  here  and  there,  up,  across,  athwart,  as  if  in 
merry  mimic  of  carnival  holiday.  His  chair  was  so  situated  as  to 
give  him  a  full  view  of  the  scene  without,  through  the  window  at 
his  left,  from  which  the  red  curtain  had  been  lifted.  There  he 
sat,  thinking,  thinking.  And  of  what  could  he  be  thinking  but  of 
home  and  M  ary  ?  He  sighed  most  deeply,  and  passed  his  hand 
slowly  over  his  pale  brow,  as  there  came  up  before  him  the  long, 
long,  weary  days  since  he  had  heard  from  the  loved  one  whose 
image  lived  in  his  heart,  whose  soft  sweet  look  was  ever  with 
him,  whether  in  the  weary  march,  or  in  the  still  deep  hours  of 
midnight  he  lay  dreaming  of  the  bliss  to  come. 

''To  seejier  once  again,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  leaned  his 
head  on  his  hand,  "  would  be  more  to  me  than  the  elixir  of  life  to 
Oriental  magician.  I  should  be  well  again,  could  I  but  look  on 
her  faultless  form,  gaze  into  the  pure  living  depths  of  those  soft  blue 
eyes,  and  clasp  that  gentle  hand  in  mine.  But,  ah  me,  many  a 
day  shall  come  and  go  before  we  meet.  And  it  may  be — yes,  it 
may  be — "  He  dared  not  complete  the  dread  sentence.  He 
shuddered  with  fear  like  one  seized  with  a  sudden  chill — tears 
came  to  his  eyes,  and  he  bowed  his  head  yet  lower  on  his 
hand. 

Thus  he  sat  for  several  minutes,  thinking,  fearing,  feeling.  Then 
rising,  he  walked  feebly  to  a  little  dressing-stand  on  the  other  side 
of  the  fireplace,  and  took  from  its  drawer  a  picture.  Pweseatiug 
himself,  he  opened  it,  and  gazed  intently  on  the  face  before  him. 


48  RAIDS   AND   KOMAXCE 

His  countenance  wore  tlie  look  of  saddened  love — his  cheek  was 
flushed,  his  hand  trembled. 

A  rap  was  heard  at  the  door.  Supposing  it  was  his  physician, 
whose  hour  it  was  to  make  his  raorniug  call,  he  hastily  thrust  the 
picture  into  his  bosom  (its  usual  resting-place),  and  wiping  the 
tears  from  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  he  assumed,  as  far  as  he  could, 
his  wonted  look  of  cheerfulness.  The  door  opened.  Charley 
turned  to  bid  the  physician  good-morning.  His  eye  rested  on  a 
strange  form,  muffled  in  overcoat  and  comforter  to  shut  out  the 
bleak  winter  air. 

Ciiarley  bade  the  visitor  "  Good-morning,"  and  requested  liim 
to  walk  to  the  fire,  pointing  him  to  a  chair  which  stood  near  the 
dressing-case. 

The  stranger  did  not  obey  the  invitation,  but  stood  eyeing  the 
invalid  with  a  quizzical  look.  Charley's  face  colored  deeply,  and 
strange  fancies  began  to  fill  his  bewildered  brain.  The  visitor 
threw  off  his  cap,  and  hastily  drew  the  comforter  from  his  face. 

''John!"  ejaculated  Charley,  as  he  stretched  out  his  thin,  pale 
hand  towards  him.  It  was  all  he  could  say,  for  a  moment.  John 
Lawrence  (for  it  was  he),  the  brother  of  Mar}',  and  Charley's  life- 
long friend,  grasped  the  feeble  hand  and  shook  it  most  heartily. 
Then  drawing  the  chair  to  Charley's  side,  he  recounted  to  him  all 
the  incidents  of  his  escape  from  Louisville,  and  the  various  adven- 
tures that  had  befallen  him  by  the  way. 

"  And  I  have  two  letters  for  you,  Charley."  And  the  young 
man  turned  up  the  left  leg  of  his  pantaloons,  and  with  his  knife 
making  an  opening  in  the  lining,  drew  forth  two  sheets  of  tissue 
paper,  closely  written,  and  tossed  them  into  the  invalid's  lap.  '*I 
tell  you,  my  friend,  they  have  had  many  a  hair-breadth  escape, 
and  could  they  tell  their  own  story,  it  would  prove  no  uninterest- 
ing history,  I  assure  you." 

Charley  tore  off  the  gauzy  envelopes,  and  looked  for  the  signa- 
tures. One  was  from  his  sister  Lu,  the  other  from  Mary.  What 
a  smile  of  happiness  overspread  his  wan  face,  giving  to  it  an 
expression  peculiarly  interestiog,  as  eagerly  his  eye  glanced  over 
the  contents  of  these  dear  missives.  Like  the  breathings  of  the 
Angel  of  Life,  stole  the  eloquent  words  of  love  into  the  innermost 
recesses  of  his  soul,  arousing  to  renewed  vigor  every  animal 
functiou. 

The  letters  were  read  and  laid  aside  for  a  reperusal,  and  conver- 
sation resumed,  when  the  physician,  piusing  a  moment  after 
loor  and  approached  his  patient. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    UIS    MEN.  49 

*'  Ah,  better  to-day,  Cliarley,"  said  Dr.  Lindley,  pleasantly,  as 
he  turned  from  .vliukiii<,'  young  Lawrence's  hand,  and  took  the 
arm  of  his  patient.     *■'  1  lliink  you  will  no  longer  need  my  care." 

After  a  few  minutes'  conversation,  the  physician  rose  to  leave, 
telling  Charley  he  would  not  call  again,  unless  sent  for,  as  he  was 
now  entirely  free  from  danger,  and  only  needed  care  to  restore 
him  to  health. 

Young  Lawrence,  or  John,  as  we  shall  most  frequently  stylo 
him  in  our  future  narrative,  remained  with  his  friend  for  several 
hours,  and  wlien  he  left  to  report  himself,  and  obtain  a  position 
in  C»)lonel  Hanson's  regiment,  if  possible,  it  was  under  promise  to 
return  as  soon  as  this  business  could  be  arranged,  Jolin  was  not 
only  [daced  in  the  desired  regiment,  but  also  in  Company  C,  a 
vacancy  having  been  made  by  the  death  of  one  of  the  members. 

Cliarley,  as  Dr.  Lindley  had  said,  grew  rapidly  well,  and  in  the 
lapse  of  two  weeks  from  the  physician's  last  call,  he  was  ready  to 
join  his  regiment,  and  resume  his  duties  as  a  soldier. 

Manyji  familiar  face  was  absent.  Some  lay  on  beds  of  linger- 
ing languor  in  the  dreary  hospitals.  Others  were  quietly  resting 
beneath  the  new-made  earth  in  the  soldiers'  burying-ground. 

3 


50  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GENERAL  BUCKNER  ORDERED  TO  REINFORCE  FORT  DONELSON. 

Christmas  came  and  passed.  But  little  of  a  striking  character 
connected  with  the  Confederate  army  in  Kentucky  had  yet  trans-, 
pired.  They  had  served  for  months  to  hold  in  clieck  the  immense 
Federal  force  that  had  been  thrown  into  the  State,  and  thus  had 
rendered  to  the  Confederacy  most  valuable  service,  by  giving  it 
time  to  expand  and  strengthen  its  resource55. 

It  was  the  last  days  of  January,  1861.  The  army  had  remained 
at  Bowling  Green  since  the  18th  of  September  previous.  Each 
day  intelligence  was  received  that  the  Yankees  would  very  soon 
make  an  attack.  Already  had  the  gallant  Terry  fallen  at  Greea 
river.  Already  had  all  the  troops  been  withdrawn  from  along 
the  line  of  the  Louisville  and  Nashville  railroad,  and  concentrated 
behind  the  fortifications  at  Bowling  Green,  and  their  old  encamp- 
ments were  occupied  by  the  advancing  foe,  who  warily  yet  stead- 
fastly moved  on  towards  the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose. 

It  became  evident  to  General  A.  S.  Johnston  that  Bowhng 
Green  must  be  evacuated,  particularly  as  the  enemy  was  now 
making  extensive  preparations  to  attack  Forts  Henry  and  Donel- 
son  by  water;  but  his  determination  was  to  hold  out  at  the  above 
mentioned  place  as  long  as  possible,  in  order  that  the  fortifications 
at  Donelson  might  be  made  as  strong  as  practicable. 

General  Buckner  had  received  orders  from  General  Johnston  to 
move  with  his  division  against  the  Federal  General  Crittenden, 
who  with  a  considerable  force  was  posted  at  Rochester,  a  small 
town  in  Butler  county,  of  which  mention  has  hitherto  been  made. 
In  obedience  to  the  command.  General  Buckner  took  with  him 
eight  regiments,  numbering  in  all  about  seven  thousand  men,  among 
them  the  Second  Kentucky.  Colonel  Hanson,  the  Fourteenth  Missis- 
sippi, Colonel  Harper,  and  the  Third  Tennessee,  Colonel  Brown. 
General  Floyd  accompanied  him  with  his  Virginia  troops, — the 
whole  force  amounting  to  about  nine  thousand.  The  command 
left  Bowling  Green  for  Rochester  via  Russellville.  The  rain 
commenced  to  pour  in  torrents  on  the  first  day  of  the  march. 


OF    MORGAN    A^D   IIIS    MEN. 


51 


Reaching  Russellville,  it  wus  found  impossible  to  proceed  further, 
owing  to  the  iinp^ussahle  state  of  the  roads.  While  thus  detamed, 
orders  came  to  Ge.R'ral  lUickner  to  hasten  to  DonelsoD,  for  the 
purpose  of  reinforciui?  the  garrison  there. 

Cl.arlev,   seated  on  a  camp-stool  at  the  d.or  of  Ins  tent,  Ins 
paper  re;ting  on   his  knee,  was  busily  writing  a  letter  to  Mary. 
The  rain  fell  unceasing  from  the  thick  black  clouds  above      The 
winter  wind  blew  fiercely  through  the  leafless  branches  of  the  old 
forest-teees,  which  stood  like  the  grim  sentinels  of  some  enchant- 
ed land.    Its  voice  sounded  mournfully  solenm  as  it  swept  onward 
•by  the  tent  dt)or,  over  the  dreary  meadow-land,  and  lost  itselt 
amid  the  thick  undergrowth  of  the  dark  gloom  of  the  dense  t..rest 
beyond.     To  the  ear  of  Charley,  it  seemed  like  the  low  plamtive 
dirge  of  a  lost  spirit.    The  scene  was  dreary  and  cheerless  enough 
to  oppress  the  stoutest  heart  with  loathing  disgust  for  the  present, 
and  dread  apprehensions  for  the  future,  and,  despite  of  all  his 
endeavors  to  the  contrary,  Charley's  words  would  breathe  a  true 
spirit  of  subdued  thought  very  near  akin  to  sadness      The  dark 
trials  which  were  so  soon  to  be  realized  by  many  a  bold  defiant 
heart,  seemed  to  throw  their  shadows  over  the  present,  and  to 
forewarn  of  coming  defeat  and  humiliation 

-  I  know  not  why  I  thus  feel,  my  dear  Mary,"  wrote  Charley, 
£fter  speaking  his  fears  and  apprehensions.     "  It  is  so  unusual  tor 
me  to  be  overcome  by  gloomy  presentiments.     But  I  cannot  rid 
nivself  of  the  feeling.     Indeed,  it  reaches  conviction,  that  there  is 
sonow  in  store  for  us.     I  have  never  been  so  impressed  before 
since  I  parted  with  you,  and  my  dear,  dear  friends.     It  must  be 
thi.  miserable  weather-this  ever-continued  dropping  of  the  cold 
chill  ruin,  and  mournful  sighing  of  the  bleak  wind      I  mus    not 
yield  to  such  impressions ;  they  unfit  me  for  duty,  hfe,  every  thing. 
They  will  pass  away,  no  doubt,  with  the  sunshine,  should  that  ever 
again  return  ;  and  then  I  shall  be  myself  again." 
^' Orders  are  to  move  immediately  to  Fort  Donelson.     Qmck, 
boys,  be  ready  as  soon  as  possible.     Cars  are  in  waiting  to  carry 
us  to  ClarksviUe.    Not  a  moment  must  be  lost."    And  the  speaker 
leffthe  door  of  the  tent  to  deliver  his  commands  elsewhere. 

Charley  hastily  added  an  explanation,  enveloped  and  directed 
his  letter,  and  requesting  his  friend  John  to  attend  to  all  prepara- 
tions,  hastened  to  the  post-office.  All  was  energy  and  bustle 
throughout  the  encampment.  In  thirty  minutes  alter  the  issuance 
of  the  order,  the  Second  Kentucky  was  marched  on  board  the  cars, 
which  immediately  conveyed  them  to  ClarksviUe, d/i  route  to  tort 


Oii  KAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

DoDelson.  This  was  on  Tuesday,  February  11th.  On  Wednes- 
day they  reached  Donelson  by  boat.  Thursday  the  attack  was 
made  on  the  fort  by  the  land  forces  of  the  Federals,  under  Gen- 
eral Grant. 

It  was  now  evident  to  the  men  that  some  6ghting  must  be  done ; 
they  were  now,  for  the  first  time,  to  meet  the  foe.  Victory  or 
death  was  their  watch  word,  and  nobly  did  they  make  it  good 
throughout  those  memorable  three  days,  when,  from  early,  morn- 
ing until  night,  they  repulsed,  with  su])erhuman  energy,  the  hosts 
of  the  beleaguerers. 


OF    MOKGAN    AND    UIS    MKN.  53 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DONELSON — FIRST    DAy's    ATTACK. 

What  varied  emotions  are  c.illed  into  life  at  the  mention  of 
that  name— Fort  Donelson !    Emotions  of  sadness,  as  the  mind 
recalls  the  sufferings,  ])rivations,  and  defeat  of  those  gallant  men 
—those  more  than  Spartan  defenders— who,  for  three  long  weary 
davs  of  carnage,    maintained  the  unequal   contest  against  such 
fe-u-ful  odds;  and  who  at  last  yielded  because  nature,  exhausted, 
could  no  longer  obev  the  biddings  of  their  unconquerable  cour- 
age: emotions  of  unbounded  admiration,  as  we  think  of  the  dar- 
in.T,  endurance,  patriotism,  and  nerve  manifested  by  that  devoted 
ba'iid,  who,  under  circumstances  the  most  trying,  without  food  or 
adequate  clothing,  meeting  and  driving  back  through  the  day  the 
countless  hordes  of  the  assailants,  and  at  night,  hungry  and  worn 
from  the  conflict,  sleeping  in  trenches  filled  with  mud  and  ice, 
till  many  were  frozen,  while  the  pitiless  sleet  beat  furiously  over 
them,  vet,  like  veterans,  like  brave,  patriotic  men  as  they  were, 
meeting  all  these  horrors,  enduring  all  this  unparalleled  hardship 
unmurmuriugly,  and  with  firm,  undaunted  soul,  rising  with  each 
rising  morn  to  strike  for  freedom  and  for  right. 

This  dreadful  war  hath  many  a  page  all  bright  and  glorious 
with  the  heroic  daring,  the  patriotic  fortitude,  the  brilliant  victory 
of  Southern  freemen,  but  none  can  ever  be  more  lustrous,  can 
ever  '^peak  in  words  of  more  thrilling  eloquence  to  the  generations 
of  all  coming  years,  than  that  of  Donelson,  the  synonym  of  all 
that  is  sublime  in  suffering,  hen)ic  in  daring,  and  nobly  triumphant 
in  patriotism. 

On  the  10th  of  February,  General  Pillow  reached  Donelson,  and 
took  command.  Immediately  every  thing  was  in  busy  activity, 
to  place  the  fort  in  a  defensive  condition  against  the  expected 
attack  by  land  and  river. 

''The  space  to  be  defended  by  the  army  was  quadrangular  in 
shape,  being  limited  on  the  north  by  the  Cumberland  river,  and 
on  the  east  and  west  by  small  streams,  now  converted  into  deep 
sloughs  by  die  high  wflter,  and  on  the  south  by  our  line  of  defence. 


54  KATDS    AND    ROMANCE 

The  river-line  exceeded  a  mile  in  lengtli.  The  line  of  defence  was 
about  one  mile  and  a  half  lonjr,  and  its  distance  from  the  river 
varied  from  one-fourth  to  three-fourths  of  a  mile." 

The  line  of  intrenchments,  of  a  few  logs  rolled  together,  and 
but  ^.lightly  covered  with  earth,  formed  an  insufficient  protection 
even  against  field  artillery.  .  Not  more  than  a  third  of  the  line 
was  completed  on  the  morning  of  the  12th.  It  had  been  located 
near  the  crest  of  a  series  of  ridges,  which  sloped  backwards  to 
the  river,  and  which  were  again  commanded  in  several  places 
by  the  ridges  at  a  still  greater  distance  from  the  river.  This 
chain  of  heights  was  intersected  by  deep  valleys  and  ravines, 
which  materially  interfered  with  communications  between  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  line.  Between  the  village  of  Dover  and  the 
water  batteries  a  broad  and  deep  valley,  extending  back  from  the 
river,  and  flooded  by  the  high  water,  intersected  the  quadrangular 
area  occupied  by  the  army,  and  almost  completely  isolated  the 
right  wing. 

There  were  but  thirteen  guns,  and,  on  trial,  it  was  found  that 
only  three  of  this  number  were  effective  against  the  gunboats. 
The  garrison  numbered  only  ''13,000  troops,  all  told."  These 
consisted  of  Tennessee  and  Mississippi  regiments,  under  General 
Pillow,  General  Floyd's  brigade,  and  a  portion  of  General  Buck- 
ner's  command  from  Bowling  Green,  wiiich  did  not  reach  the 
fort  until  the  12th,  only  the  day  before  the  attack,  while  General 
Floyd  did  not  arrive  until  the  morning  of  the  13th. 

The  morning  of  the  13th  of  February  rose  bright  and  beautiful. 
Just  as  the  first  rays  of  the  dawning  sun,  bursting  through  the  fleecy 
clouds  of  the  morning,  fell  over  the  earth,  the  loud  booming  of 
the  cannon  aroused  the  expectant  garrison,  and  announced  the 
beginning  of  that  fierce  conflict  which  was  to  last  throughout 
three  fearful  days. 

The  men  sprang  to  arms,  eager  for  the  contest.  Soon,  under 
the  direction  of  their  ofiicers,  they  were  formed  into  line  of  battle, 
and  in  a  few  brief  moments  the  strife  coiumenced  on  the  right 
wing,  commanded  by  Buckner,  and  raged  in  wildest  fury. 

On  and  on  came  the  moving  lines  of  t})e  foemen,  encountering 
the  well-directed  fire  of  infantry  and  artillery.  The  massed  col- 
umns wavered  and  fell  back  with  fearful  slaughter.  Not  a  South- 
erner faltered.  Officers  displayed  the  most  daring  courage,  riding 
np  and  down  the  ranks  cheering  their  men,  and  inciting  them  to 
deeds  of  valor,  while  the  rnen,  fighting  for  homes  and  liberty,  ri- 
valled each  other  in  death-defying  heroism. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS    MEN.  55 

At  10  o'clock,  tlie  extreme  right  of  General  Buckner's  line,  un- 
der Colonel  Hanson,  was  desperately  attacked,  the  enemy  advan- 
cing: in  column,  nianitesting  a  determination  to  take  the  position  at 
all  hazards.     On  came  the  serried  hosts. 

"  Wait,  boys,  until  tiiey  come  within  range  of  your  guns,"  was 
the  command. 

The  gallant  2d  Kentucky,  fired  with  a  desire  to  repulse  the 
dark  foe,  could  scarcely  restrain  their  ardor.  "Fire!''  The  order 
ran  swift  along  the  line,  and  volley  after  volley  of  musketry,  min- 
gling with  the  roar  and  bursting  of  shells  and  the  crashing  of  artil- 
lery, poured  into  tlie  ranks  of  the  assailants.  Ah,  it  was  a  fearful 
sight  to  witness  the  carnage  and  death  that  swept  along  that  close, 
dense  line.  Like  grain  before  the  reaper's  sickle,  they  fell,  mowed 
down  by  bullet,  shell,  and  shot.  Affrigiited,  they  paused — 'twas 
but  for  a  moment :  rallying,  they  pressed  forward.  Again  sped  tl)e 
horrid  missiles  of  death  from  the  intrenchraents,  and  down  went 
scores  of  the  rash  besiegers,  mangled,  torn,  bleeding,  writhing  in 
the  tortures  of  agony  and  death.  Discomfited,  the  decimated  regi- 
ments retire,  to  make  room  t\)r  others,  who  dash  on  to  tlie  same 
dreadful  fate.  Thrice  is  the  attack  made  on  this  point  by  fresh 
and  heavy  forces — thrice  is  the  foe  repulsed  with  dreadful  slaugh- 
ter. The  batteries  of  the  Confederates,  managed  with  precision 
and  skill — each  man  performing  his  part  with  the  greatest  enthu- 
siasm— at  every  discharge,  cut  long  lanes  through  the  serried  col- 
umns of  the  assailants. 

Repulsed,  defeated  at  this  point,  the  enemy,  with  fresh  troops, 
turned  his  assault  on  the  position  beyond  General  Buckner's  left, 
held  by  Colonel  Heiman,  and  flanked  by  Grave's  battery,  which, 
from  its  location,  swept  with  its  deadly  tire  the  valley  through 
which  the  Federals  had  to  advance. 

On  they  came,  with  firm,  undaunted  step,  knowing  not  that 
they  were  marching  to  the  death.  With  banners  proudly  waving, 
and  officers  splendidly  uniformed,  cheering  their  men  to  victory, 
they  dash  on — on — on  !  All  is  silent  on  the  part  of  the  besieged. 
AVith  a  shout  of  triumph  the  armed  forces  press  forward.  Loud, 
as  if  a  thousand  thunders  had  leaped  from  their  wild  storm-cloud — 
reverberating  through  the  valleys,  and  bounding  against  the  liills, 
to  be  re-echoed  in  tenfold  fury — burst  upon  the  air  the  hideous 
bellowing  of  the  wide-mouth  cannon  ;  while  the  crash  and  hiss  of 
shredding  bullets  which  fell  like  the  thick  hail  on  the  close  lines, 
sweeping  down  in  one  wide  welter,  hundreds  of  stricken  men, 
added  to  the  loud,  wild  din,  until  the  earth  shook,  and  the  air  re- 
sounded with  the  terrible  conflict. 


56  BAIDS    A2sD   KOMANCE 

Louder  and  louder  grew  tlie  mingling  clash  of  arms  :  fiercer,  and 
yet  more  fierce  the  dreadful  struggle.  But  its  fiendish  fury  lasted 
but  for  a  few  minutes.  The  assailants,  unable  to  stand  the  leaden 
storm  in  front  and  the  destructive  flank  fire  from  Grave's  battery, 
like  their  comrades,  faltered  onward;  then,  as  if  broken  by  the 
hand  of  divine  vengeance,  atfrighted,  panic-stricken,  they  turned 
and  fled  in  wild  confusion. 

Hundreds  of  their  number  lay  mangled,  wounded,  torn,  dying 
on  the  battle-field,  trampled  beneath  the  feet  of  their  retreating 
comrades.  Their  guns  had  been  silenced — many  of  their  oflicers 
had  fallen — yet,  unwilling  to  yield  the  contest,  they  poured  fresh 
trooj)S  against  the  intrenchments,  and  the  deadly  strife  went  on. 

All  through  that  long  dread  day,  the  battle  raged  most  fearfully ; 
and  as  night  closed  in  upon  the  sickening  carnage,  the  enemy,  re- 
pulsed, cut  to  pieces,  slain  in  hundreds,  was  driven  to  seek  his 
position  of  the  morning,  leaving  the  field  covered  with  his  dead 
and  dying.  Ah,  it  was  a  sad,  sad  sight  to  see  them  there,  cut  down 
in  tlieir  manhood's  prime,  in  servile  obedience  to  the  behest  of  a 
tyrant. 

Many  who,  but  a  few  hours  before,  had  marched  forth  with 
strong  hearts,  and  arms  well  nerved,  now  lay  stifi^  and  cold  in 
death.  Many  weltered  in  their  gore  far  away  from  all  relief,  send- 
ing out  on  the  dead,  dull  ear  of  night,  piteous  moans  and  cries  for 
help,  which,  alas,  would  never  come;  for  when  the  morning  rose 
and  woke  to  life  their  comrades,  they  had  passed  away. 

On  the  bloody  battle-field  lay  friend  and  foe  in  ghastly  death  en- 
wrapt.  Everywhere  were  nringled,  mangled  forms  of  men  and 
horses,  and  broken  remains  of  guns  and  caissons.  In  some  places 
the  dead  bodies  lay  piled  several  feet  deep.  In  many  instances, 
the  wounded  lay  pinned  to  the  moist,  cold  ground  by  the  forms 
of  dead  comrades,  ^yhose  fixed  and  agonizing  eyes  looked  out  as  if 
in  search  of  the  foe;  while  the  shrieks  of  the  suflfering  and  dying 
broke  in  horrid  cries  on  the  ears  of  those  who  could  give  them 
no  aid.  Faint  and  low  was  the  plaintiv^e  wail  of  some,  as  with 
the  life-blood  ebbing  fast  from  their  gaping  wounds,  they  turned 
their  wild,  glaring  eyes  upward  and  vainly  implored  help. 

Ah,  it  was  a  sight  fearfully  appalling,  that  battle-field  of  Donel- 
son.  For  two  miles  the  slain  were  thickly  strewn,  and  in  places 
where  our  artillery  had  mowed  them  down,  they  lay  literally  heap- 
ed, soddening  in  their  gore. 

The  morning  had  opened  beautifully  bright.  Towards  the 
afternoon  a  fierce  wind  swept  from  the  north,  bringing  on  its 


OF    MOKGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  57 

careering  bosom  rain,  and  .^lect,  and  snow.  A  more  fearful  nigiit 
could  nt)t  be  conceived  than  that  which  rested  over  the  blood- 
bathed  battle-field  after  that  first  day's  conflict.  Those  of  the 
wounded  who  survived  the  horrors  of  that  memorable  night,  had 
their  clothes  stiff  frozen  to  their  griping  wounds,  while  the  sleet 
and  snow  fell  pitilessly  over  their  [)rostrat6  forms  writhing  in 
tortures  of  helpless,  hopeless  agony. 

Those  of  the  garrison  who  had  fallen  beyond  the  intrenchments 
shared  tiie  direful  fate  of  the  prostrate  enemy.  For  so  close  were 
tlie  two  armies  as  they  rested  for  the  niglit,  that  neither  dared  to 
make  an  etibrt  to  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  their  wounded. 

Our  men,  who  had  fought  throughout  the  day,  weary,  worn, 
exhausted  by  their  superhuman  etf*)rts,  threw  themselves  on  their 
arms  in  the  trenches  to  catch  such  repose  as  the  shelling,  which 
was  kept  up  at  intervals  through  the  night  by  the  enemy,  would 
allow. 

"This  is  terrible,"  said  Charley  to  John  Lawrence,  who  lay 
beside  him  in  the  pit  shivering  with  cold,  while  the  freezing  sleet 
dashed  into  their  faces  and  fell  in  icy  showers  over  their  benumbed 
bodies,  as  ever  and  anon  the  bursting  shells  from  the  enemy's 
batteries  came  whizzing  through  the  air  on  their  errand  of  death. 
"Terrible!  terrible!"  replied  his  comrade.  "  We  shall  all  bo 
frozen  by  morning;  it  is  impossible  to  live  through  sucli  a  night 
as  this,  lying  here  in  the  mud  and  snow,  without  any  protection. 
But  we  have  whipped  the  Lincolnites  most  soundly,  and  this  is 
some  consolation,  Charley,  if  we  do  freeze  to  death.  The  poor 
wretches,  I  wonder  how  they  feel  to-night  after  their  drubbing.  I 
pity  them,  foes  as  they  are." 

At  that  moment  a  piercing  moan  was  heard  just  outside  the 
intrenchment,  near  where  the  two  were  lying,  and  a  voice,  in  the 
accents  of  despair,  gasped  out,  ''Water!  water!  for  God's  sake, 
boys,  give  me  water!     I  am  dying!" 

"That  is  one  of  our  men,"  said  Charley,  rising  to  his  knees. 
"Listen!  don't  you  hear?  he  is  near  us.  I  must  give  the  poor 
fellow  water,  if  they  kill  me  for  it.  I  cannot  let  him  lie  there  and 
die.  Go  with  me,  John,  perhaps  we  can  succeed  in  bringing  him 
in!" 

'•They  may  shoot  us,  Charley,  as  they  did  those  boys  that  went 
out  just  after  dark  to  bring  in  our  wounded.     But  we  must  risk 
it.     I  would   sooner  perish   than  listen   to  those   pitiful  groans. 
Have  you  any  water  in  your  canteen?     Mine  is  empty." 
''EnoUirh  fur  him." 


58  EAIDS   AND   KOMANCE 

The  two  rose  cautioiij;!}',  and,  guided  by  tlie  sad,  low  moans, 
proceeded  warily  under  cover  of  the  trees  to  where  the  sufferer  lay. 

"  Water,  boys,  water,"  said  the  wounded  man,  as  the  noise  of 
footsteps  fell  on  his  dull  ear.  *'  I  am  dying — will  no  one  give  me 
a  drop  of  water?  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  a  little  water,  Pm  dying. 
Just  a  little  w^ater,  then  Til  die  in  peace." 

Bending  low,  and  lifting  the  feeble  head,  Charley  placed  his 
canteen  to  the  ftimished  lips.     The  sufferer  drank  eagerly. 

"God  bless  you,  boys!  I  was  ready  to  perish,  but  you  have 
saved  me,"  he  said,  in  low,  faltering  tones.  "  Could  you  take  me 
from  this  place?  I  am  freezing,  dying.  Ah,  my  poor  wife,  my 
dear  children  !     God  in  heaven  pity  them  !" 

"Be  quiet,  friend,  and  we  will  do  for  you  what  we  can," 
whispered  Charley.  ''If  you  make  a  noise  we  may  all  be  shot. 
Where  are  you  wounded  ?" 

"There,  in  my  ankle,"  and  the  man,  with  a  desperate  effort, 
struggled  up  and  placed  his  hand  upon  the  bleeding  limb.  As  he 
did  so,  he  shrieked  with  pain. 

"Be  quiet,"  whispered  Charley,  "or  the  Yankees  will  shoot 
us." 

"The  bone  is  shattered,  and  I  am  so  faint  I  can't  sit  up,"  and 
the  poor  man  relaxed  his  hold  on  young  Lawrence's  arm,  and 
would  have  fallen  backward  to  the  ground  had  not  Charley  caught 
and  supported  him. 

"Lean  on  us,  and  we  will  bear  you  in." 

"God  bless  you,  boys,"  said  the  wounded  man,  with  something 
like  animation  in  his  voice.     "  I  may  yet  live." 

With  great  effort  the  two  bore  him  within  the  intrenchments, 
and  securing  a  place  of  safety  and  comfort  for  him,  called  a  sur- 
geon to  dress  his  wounds. 

"  AVe  shall  have  hot  work  to-morrow,  Charley,"  said  Lawrence, 
as  they  resumed  their  places  in  the  trenches.  "  These  Lincolnites 
have  a  strong  force,  and  they  will  bring  their  gunboats  into  the 
action." 

"  We  shall  whip  them  for  all  that,"  was  the  heroic  reply  ;  "that 
is,  if  we  don't  all  freeze  to-night.  But,  really,  I  don't  believe  I 
can  live  till  morning  in  this  condition." 

"I  don't  fear  a  thing  but  the  boats,  Charley.  But  I  do  quake 
a  little  at  the  thought  of  those  monster  balls  whizzing  round  ray 
ears." 

"Soon  get  used  to  them,  John.  And  if  we  die,  we  perish  in  a 
glorious  cause.     This  is  my  doctrine,  and   I'm  not  going  to  let 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS    MEN. 


59 


lie 


their  gunboats,  or  nnv  thing  else,  sciire  me.  And  after  all,  th 
balls  fruni  their  gunboats  will  be  directed  against  the  water  bat- 
teries, and  can  do  us  but  little  harm,  I  imagine.  But  their  troops 
surprised  me,  John.  They  fought  like  men  in  earnest.  I  bad  no 
idea  they  had  so  much  spirit.  Poor  fellows,  they  were  sadly  cut 
to  pieces.     Their  loss  must  be  three  or  four  times  ours." 

''  Oh,  these  Western  tnen  are  brave,  Charley.  It's  all  a  mistake 
to  say  they  are  Yankee  cowards.  They  can  fight  like  wild- 
cats. But  they  are  pretty  well  used  up.  I  think  they'll  need 
some  rest  before  they  attack  us  again." 

'•  But,  doubtless,  they  will  be  heavily  reinforced  before  they 
renew  t'he  attack,"  replied  Charley.  ''  There's  no  end  to  the  num- 
ber of  these  men.  This  is  our  only  danger.  If  they  can  bring 
fresh  troops  against  us  to-morrow,  I  don't  see  how  we  can  hold 
out.     But  Buckner  is  here,  and  I'll  trust  to  hiin." 

'►Tes,  indeed,  I'll  risk  my  fate  in  his  hands.  He'll  bring  us 
through,  my  word  for  that." 

Just  then  a  shell  came  whizzing  by,  and  exploded  at  no  great 
distance  from  where  they  lay.     It  did  no  damage. 

'•  They  won't  let  us  sleep  a  wink  to-night,  Charley.  I  do  wish 
they  would  cease  firing  until  daylight." 

"But  I  must  sleep,  John,  if  they  do  shell  us,  and  so  must  you. 
We  won't  be  able  to  fight  to-morrow  if  we  don't.  We  must  take 
our  chances— no  use  trying  to  escape." 

The  two  selected  as  comfortable  a  posture  as  was  possible,  and 
fell  into  a  slumber,  from  which  they  were  frequently  aroused  by 
the  passage  of  a  ball  or  shell,  as  it  swept  onward.^ 

The  long  and  dreary  night  passed  away,  and  uiorning  came  all 
too  soon  for  those  weary  men,  who,  worn  out  with  the  fierce  con- 
test, lay  sleeping  in  the  uncovered  pits,  while  the  sleet  and  snow- 
fell  thick  and  fast  upon  them.  ^  ^  ,  ,  i 
At  the  tap  of  the  drum  they  sprang  from  their  fitful  sleep,  and 
seized  their  arms.  Their  hearts  were  brave,  and  they  longed 
again  to  meet  the  baffled  foe.  There  he  lay,  with  his  gigantic 
numbers,  within  view  of  the  fort,  but  as  yet  manifested  no  signs 
of  renewing  the  attack.  Our  men,  after  vainly  waiting  some  time 
for  his  advance,  snatched  a  hasty  meal,  and  immediately  placed 
themselves  again  in  line  of  battle.  There  they  stood  in  the 
trenches,  through  the  long,  dread  hours,  the  mud  and  ice-water 
up  to  their  knees,  expecting  every  moment  the  presence  of  tho 
foemen.  But  nothing  was  heard  from  him  through  the  morning, 
save  the  shells  which  he  unceasingly  threw  into  the  fort. 


CO  RAIDS    AND    ROMAifCE 

But  he  was  not  idle.  A  plan  for  an  attack  by  tlie  gunboats 
■was  being  arranged,  and  meanwhile  large  reinforcements  were 
landed  from  transport.-,  which  everywhere  lined  the  river  below 
the  fort. 

Their  plans  were  fully  comprehended  by  General  Buckner,  who, 
in  a  council  of  general  officers  called  during  the  morning,  advised 
that  an  immediate  etfort  should  be  made  by  the  garrison  to  cut  its 
way  out,  while  the  enemy,  prostrated  by  the  defeat  of  the  previ- 
ous day,  was  comparjitively  helpless,  and  before  the  reinforce- 
ments, fifteen  tliousand  strong,  should  disembark.  The  proposi- 
tion was  assented  to  by  all  present.  General  Buckner  proposed 
to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  army  with -his  division,  in  the  event 
the  attempt  should  prove  a  success.  The  tnjops  were  drawn  out, 
and  every  preparation  made,  both  by  Generals  Buckner  and  Pil- 
low, to  execute  the  movement,  when,  to  the  surprise  of  the  former 
general,  the  order  was  countermanded  by  General  Floyd,  influ- 
enced to  the  decision  by  the  unwise  council  of  General  Pillow, 
who  alleged  the  lateness  of  the  hour  as  a  reason  for  the  aban- 
donment of  the  plan. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  gunboats  were  observed  to  be 
advancing  to  attack  the  river  batteries,  and  at  three  o'clock  a 
vigorous  fire  was  issued  from  five  boats,  approaching  in  echelon^ 
throwing  shot  into  the  fort  as  they  moved  slowly  and  majestically 
forward. 

The  gunners  waited  until  the  advance  boats  were  within  effect- 
ive range  of  our  guns.  Then,  at  a  signal,  every  gun,  twelve  in 
cumber,  belched  forth  its  missile  of  destruction  and  death. 

Still,  amid  the  dreadful  storm  of  shot  and  shell  the  defiant  fleet 
moves  on,  confident  in  its  strength,  until  it  approaches  within 
a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  fort.  For  a  nioment  the  guns  are 
silent;  then,  in  tones  louder  than  Vesuvius's  dread  voice,  they  pour 
forth  their  deafening  roar,  and  the  fiery  death-weapons  speed  on 
their  unerring  course. 

Higher  and  higher  swelled  the  tumult — dreadful  and  more 
dreadful  grew  the  fierce  conflict.  The  gi-ound  shook  as  with  the 
throes  of  an  earthquake.  The  air  resounded  for  miles  with  the 
bellowings  of  the  death-dealing  guns.  The  heavens  were  shut 
out  by  the  clouds  of  dense,  black  smoke.  Shells  crossed  and 
recrossed  each  other  at  every  conceivable  angle  ;  those  of  the  fort 
plunging  into  the  river  with  fearful  rapidity,  sending  the  white 
spray  high  in  air,  or  striking  against  the  iron  sides  of  some  vessel, 
would  make  it  creak  and  quiver  through  every  timber. 


OF   M  )UUAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  61 

Tlie  five  boats  respond  with  equal  energy  ;  and  a  sixth,  some- 
what modestly  in  the  rear  of  the  others,  sends  her  conical  shot  at 
rajjid  intervals  into  the  fort. 

Now  the  leaden  conflict  rages  with  renewed  vigor ;  shell  and 
shot  i)our  like  rain  over  every  thing.  See !  the  Essex,  mistress  of 
the  fleet,  reels  and  plunges— she  is  struck,  disabled.  She  pauses 
for  a  moment,  then  turning  about,  retires  from  the  scene. 

The  gunners  of  the  fort  point  their  guns  with  precision.  Then 
bursts  forth  a  wild  and  stunning  explosion.  Another  boat  is 
pierced  in  her  iron  casements,  and  her  timbers  creak  and  crash 
and  splinter  in  the  air.  A  few  mf)ments  later,  and  another  is 
struck,  which  makes  her  metal  sides  ring.  Her  guns  are  silenced. 
She  writhes  and  quivers  like  some  dread  monster  in  his  death 
throes,  and  is  withdrawn  from  the  conflict. 

The  remaining  boats  kept  up  a  rapid  tire.  The  batteries  fail  to 
respond.  Ah,  they  are  at  last  silenced.  The  foe  has  triumphed 
amid  his  destruction.  But  the  delusion  lasts  but  for  a  moment. 
A  fearful  shock  rends  the  air,  as  a  broadside  from  the  fort  pours 
into  the  two  remaining  boats,  and  sends  them  reeling  and  drifting 
down  the  stream. 

The  foe  is  vanquished— his  fleet  crippled.  Shout  after  shout, 
long,  loud,  victorious,  rings  forth  on  the  cold  winter  air,  as  the 
men  behold  the  haughty  foe  driven  from  his  unholy  undertaking. 
Two  davs  had  passed,  and  yet  the-^arrison,  famished,  freezing, 
overcome  bv  incessant  duty,  held  out.  Yea,  far  more  ;  they  had 
repulsed  the  hosts  of  the  enemy  on  Ijind,  and  shattered  his  mighty 

fleet.  .     ,  ., 

It  was  night,  cold,  freezing,  rayless.  The  weary  men  again  laid 
themselves  down  on  their  arms  in  the  wet  and  muddy  trenches, 
to  snatch  what  sleep  they  could. 

At  headquarters,  Generals  Floyd,  Pillow,  and  Buckner  sat  in 
grave  consultation.  •  The  question  was,  '^  what  should  be  done  on 
the  following  day  ?"  Should  the  garrison  remain  in  the  intrench- 
ments,  and  attempt  to  vanquish  the  attacking  foe,  or  should  they 
endeavor  to  cut  their  way  out,  and  fall  back  on  Nashville?  It  was 
known  that  throughout  the  day  heavy  reinforcements  had  been 
received  bv  the  enemv,  and  that  he  had  so  disposed  himselt  as 
even  now  to  almost  completely  envelop  the  fort.  His  gunboats 
would  command  the  river,  thei-eby  cutting  off  all  reinforcements 
and  supplies  from  Cumberland  city.  The  question  was  a  serious 
one,'and  required  grave  consideration.  The  men  were  greatly 
exhausted  through  tighiing  and  loss  ot  sleep,  and  it  was  telt  that 


62  EAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 

unless  they  could  be  relieved  by  fre>h  troops,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  them  to  hold  out  more  tluiri  one  day  k)nger. 

The  question  was  fully  <lebated.  Each  general  unreservedly 
expressed  his  opinion.  At  length  it  was  determined  that  the  gar- 
rison, if  it  were  possible,  should  cut  its  way  out,  and  thus  attempt 
to  gain  the  open  country  south  of  the  fort. 

It  was  a  fearful  alternative  for  men  weary,  hungry,  stiff  with 
cold,  their  clothes  frozen  to  their  bodies,  many  of  them  with 
inferior  guns,  to  make  their  passage  through  quadruple  their  num- 
ber of  fresh  troops,  well-armed,  and  supported  by  heavy  batteries 
and  gunboats.  Yet,  desperate  as  it  was,  it  was  the  only  thing  left 
for  those  brave  men  to  do. 

Well  may  we  stand  aghast,  and  our  hearts  cease  their  beatings 
while  we  contemplate  the  dreadful  picture. 

It  was  agreed  in  general  council  that  at  daylight  the  next 
morning  General  Pillow  should  attack  the  right  wing  of  the 
enemy,  resting  on  the  river,  while  General  Buckner,  with  his 
forces,  should  make  an  effort  to  drive  him  back  on  the  Winn's 
Ferry  road ;  and,  if  successful  in  the  attempt,  the  two  forces  were 
to  unite  and  pursue  their  way  through  the  open  country  south- 
ward towards  Nashville. 

Confident  of  success  on  the  following  morning,  the  enemy,  hav- 
ing disposed  his  forces,  rested  quietly  through  the  night.  He  felt 
that  his  victim  was  immeshed,  and  he  could,  at  his  leisure,  over- 
come and  destroy  it. 


OF    MuliGAN    AND    III^    MICN 


63 


CIIArTER  X. 
Saturday's  fight. 

The  morning  came,  cold  and  dreary.  At  an  early  hour  the 
men  were  called  from  their  sleepless  night  in  the  trenches,  to 
prepare  for  the  day's  conflict.  Ah,  and  such  a  conflict  the  world 
has  rarely  ever  witnessed.  Brave  men  of  Donelson,  honor,  ever- 
lasting honor  must  needs  be  your  meed  from  a  grateful  and  ad- 
mirmg  nation!  And  when  you  have  passed  away,  and  we,  hav- 
ing conquered  this  bloody  struggle,  shall  stand  forth  a  tree,  happy, 
and  prosperous  people,  to  have  fought  at  Conelson  wdl  be  a 
nobler  fame  than  to  have  conquered  on  the  battle-plains  of 
Waterloo. 

At  the  signal  the  men  seized  their  arms,  fell  mto  line,  and  tol- 
h)wing  thefr  leaders  pressed  forward  to  the  carnage.  General 
Pillow  marched  upon  the  right  wing  of  the  enemy,  whom  he  found 
in  advance  of  his  encampment,  ready  to  receive  bim.  And  now 
came  one  of  the  most  sanguinary  struggles  recorded  m  the  annals 

of  any  war. 

The  Confederates,  whose  watchword  was  victory  or  death, 
drove  upon  the  mighty  foe,  standing  volley  after  volley  into  his 
serried  ranks,  everywhere  dealing  death  and  ruin.  But  the  enemy, 
confident  in  his  numbers,  replied  with  courage  and  determina- 
tion; and  as  quickly  as  his  hues  were  thinned  they  were  filled  up 
with  fresh  forces.  On  pressed  the  garrison,  to  triumph  or  the 
grave— they  cared  but  little  which,  as  they  confronted  the  vile 
invader  of  their  soil. 

Stubbornly  were  their  fierce  onsets  met,  the  sullen  foe  fight- 
ing with  unwonted  valor.  Charge  succeeded  charge,  as  fiercer 
and  fiercer  grew  the  bloody  strife.  The  thick  ranks  of  the  foe 
were  thinned  but  to  be  supplied  with  fresh  victims  for  the  slaugh- 
ter. ,  .,      . 

The  earth  shook  with  the  fury  of  the  battle,  while  the  air  re- 
sounded with  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  the  loud  peals  of  the  ntie 
and  musket.     The  dead  and  wounded  fell  on  every  side,  trampled 


64  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

to  the  earth  beneath  tlie  feet  of  the  onward  moving  columns.  At 
length,  after  the  most  desperate  resistance,  the  foe  wavered.  For- 
ward rushed  our  forces  upon  them  with  the  fury  of  enraged  mad- 
men. But  tlie  enemy  was  not  routed,  and  as  Xhe  Soutlierners 
charged,  they  were  met  by  a  fierce  and  destructive  fire.  But  the 
advantage  gained  must  not  be  lost,  and  with  renewed  determina- 
tion the  Confederates  dashed  on.  Inch  by  inch  the  foe  receded, 
contesting  every  step  with  fearful  obstinacy.  But  at  lengtli,  after 
six  hours'  engagement,  they  were  compelled  to  yi.ehl  before  the 
impetuosity  of  men  figliting  for  their  lives.  The  fiekl  was  won; 
and  shouts  that  made  the  heavens  ring  went  up  from  the  victori- 
ous troops  as  they  saw  the  enemy  were  driven  before  them. 

General  Buckner,  as  was  agreed,  attacked  the  forces  that  were 
massed  against  his  left.  Desperate  beyond  conception  was  the 
engagement  between  this  small  band  of  heroes  and  the  formidable 
hosts  of  the  opposer.  The  enemy  were  stronger  here  than  in 
front  of  General  Pillow's  position,  and  fought  with  a  steady  de- 
termination rarely  exhibited  by  them.  The  contending  columns 
swayed  to  and  fro,  as  first  one  and  then  the  other  gained  the  ad- 
vantage. The  fighting  on  all  parts  of  the  field  was  of  the  most 
desperate  character. 

Never  was  there  witnessed  a  wilder  scene  of  combat.  For,  as 
rank  after  rank  of  the  enemy  fell  before  the  furious  onset,  the 
doomed  victims  rushed  in  to  fill  their  vacant  places.  On  moved 
the  garrison  hke  an  '*  Alpine  avalanche,"  sweeping  every  thing 
before  it.  The  battle-field  was  one  of  awful  sublimity.  The 
shrieks  of  the  wounded  and  dying  mingled  with  the  roar  of  the 
cannon  and  the  clash  of  musketry  in  one  loud  deafening  din.  The 
shells  went  through  the  air  with  sharp  whizzing,  as  they  sped  on 
their  mission  of  death. 

The  foe  was  repulsed,  routed,  and  the  conquerors  mingled  their 
shouts  and  c'>eers  with  those  of  their  victorious  comrades  under 
General  Pillow. 

Tiie  enemy  was  defeated,  driven  back.  The  plan  devised  by 
the  council  of  Confederate  ofticers  had  succeeded  admirably.  A 
way  of  escape  had  been  0])ened  for  the  brave  and  gallant  garrison 
by  its  own  noble  achievements.  Quadruple  its  own  strength  of 
fresh  troops  had  been  driven  back  by  men  "worn  with  watching, 
with  labor,  with  fighting." 

Unfading  laurels  will  ever  wreath  the  brows  of  the  henoes  of 
that  memorable  15th  of  February,  1861. 

General  Buckner's  division  having  driven  back  the  entire  force  of 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  65 

the  enemy  to  llie  riglit  of  the  Wynu's  Ferry  roarl,  leaving  this 
route  and  ilie  Forge  road  open  for  the  egress  of  the  garrison,  were 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  their  artillery  and  the  reserves  that  had 
been  left  to  hold  the  trenches,  when  General  Bnckner  received 
reiterated  orders  to  fall  back  to  the  intrenchments  on  the  extreme 
right. 

Surprised,  shocked,  stunned  at  such  a  command  at  such  a  time, 
and  under  such  circumstances,  he  could  not  believe  that  it  had 
emanated  from  the  commanding  general. 

To  retire  back  to  the  intrenchments,  and  thus  jdace  themselves 
again  in  the  power  of  the  foe,  and  that,  too,  at  the  point  when 
the  object  for  which  the  men  had  fought  desperately  for  seven 
Iiours  was  fully  gained,  seemed  to  him  madness  of  the  wildest 
nature.  To  fall  back  was  the  certain  destruction  of  the  entire 
Confederate  force.  To  advance  from  their  present  safe  position 
would  be  the  salvation  of  the  whole  garrison. 

Galloping  back  to  the  lines,  he  encountered  General  Floyd,  and 
made  known  to  him  the  orders  he  had  received.  The  command- 
ing general,  surprised,  astonished,  pronounced  it  a  mistake. 

''  Wait,  general,"  replied  General  Floyd  to  General  Buckner. 
''Let  me  look  into  this.  Remain  in  your  present  position  until  I 
can  converse  with  General  Pillow." 

In  a  very  short  time  after  this  meeting,  General  Buckner  re- 
ceived orders  imperatively  to  repair  as  rapidly  as  he  could  to  his 
former  position  on  the  extreme  right. 

Nothing  was  left  him  but  to  obey,  although  he  knew  that  he 
and  his  men  were  going  back  to  certain  death,  or  inevitable 
surrender. 

Two  miles  of  retreat  were  trod  by  the  weary  and  now  dis- 
heartened men.  On  nearing  their  intrenchments  they  found  the 
right  of  their  position  already  occuf)ied  by  the  enemy.  A  desper- 
ate fight  ensued,  in  which  the  Confederates  succeeded  in  keeping 
at  bay  about  five  times  their  number. 

Night  closed  the  dreadful  scene.  The  enemy  occupied  the 
Confederate  works  on  General  Buckner's  right,  ready  to  resume 
the  attack  with  overwiielming  force  as  soon  as  the  morning  should 
dawn.  The  fort  was  soon  reinvested  by  the  enemy  with  the 
fresh  reinf(.rcements  received,  as  was  shown  by  a  thorough  recon- 
noiscance  made  by  Colonel  Forrest.  And  thus,  after  three  days' 
hard  fighting,  hardships,  privations,  and  sufferings,  such  as  sol- 
diers have  rarely  ever  been  called  on  to  endure,  after  having  once 
extricated  itself,  through  the  want  of  prudence  and  generalship  of 


66  liAmS    AND  EOATANCE 

General  Pillow,  tiie  heroic  garrison  was  caught  in  the  toils — 
doomed — sacrificed. 

A  sad  page  in  our  country's  history.  Would  it  had  never  been 
written; 

Again  the  dreary  night  came  down  over  the  earth,  wrap- 
ping in  its  folds  of  thick  darkness  that  appalling  scene  of  car- 
nage. 

In  a  tent,  there  sat  the  commanding  oflBcers  of  the  garrison, 
grave,  sad,  thoughtful.  They  liad  essayed  the  daring  effort  of 
cutting  their  way  out,  but  found  themselves,  after  a  successful 
effort,  back  again  in  their  old  posiiion,  and  again  environed  by  the 
■wily  foe.  Tiieir  men  had  fought  like  heroes,  but  now  they  were 
exhausted,  and  could  fight  no  longer.  They  could  not  escape 
secretly,  for  the  enemy  completely  surrounded  them,  leaving  no 
possible  outlet.  The  command  and  position  must  be  surrendered 
to  the  victorious  foe — a  sad,  but  only,  alternative. 

Everywhere  were  the  horrid  witnesses  to  that  fearful  struggle, 
which,  for  nine  dreadful  hours,  had  raged  in  wildest  fury.  Men — 
dead,  dying,  mangled — horses,  gun-carriages,  broken  muskets, 
cartridge-boxes,  knapsacks — all  the  paraphernalia  of  war — lay 
scattered  in  one  wild  welter.  Foe  grasped  foe  for  the  death- 
struggle,  and  together  fell  clenched  in  each  other's  gripe,  while 
their  pallid  faces  wore  the  look  of  deadly  hate  which  had  filled 
their  hearts  in  life. 

Three  days  of  the  most  desperate  fighting  the  world  has  ever 
known,  had  passed.  The  little  garrison,  completely  overcome,  lay 
asleep  on  the  cold  frozen  earth.  Men  dropped  from  their  position 
while  standing,  unable  to  bear  up  any  longer  under  their  dread 
exhaustion.  Some  of  the  little  band  had  fallen  on  the  ensanguined 
field,  others  were  prostrated  through  fatigue  and  exposure.  All 
weary  and  fainting,  yet  they  never  dreamed  of  yielding.  They 
looked  to  the  morrow  for  a  renewal  of  the  fight.  Alas!  they 
dreamed  not  of  the  humiliating  fate  that  awaited  them. 

Again  in  council  sat  the  officers,  this  time  more  grave,  more 
thoughtful  than  before.  Death  or  surrender  was  now  the  choice. 
There  was  nothing  else  left  them. 

Each  of  the  three  generals,  Floyd,  Pillow,  and  Buckner,  had 
expressed  his  respective  opinion.  They  were  found  to  difi'er — 
General  Pillow  believing  it  yet  possible  to  cut  their  way  out — 
General  Buckner  demurring,  regarding  the  project  as  one  involv- 
ing extreme  hazard  and  a  useless  sacrifice  of  life. 

Silence  ensued.     A  scout  was  ushered  in. 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MKN.  67 

"The  enemy  reoccnpies  the  lines  from  wliich  we  drove  liira 
during  the  day." 

*'I  think  the  man  must  be  mistaken,"  said  General  Pillow. 
"  Send  out  another  scout," 

"  I  am  confident  the  enemy  will  attack  my  lines  by  light,  and, 
owing  to  the  condition  of  my  men,  1  cannot  hold  them  a  half 
hour,"  said  General  Buckner. 

"Why  so?  Why  so,  general?"  interrogated  General  Pillow, 
sharply. 

"Because  I  can  bring  into  action  not  over  four  thousand  men, 
and  they  demoralized  by  long  and  uninterrupted  exposure  and 
hard  fighting,  while  he  can  bring  large  numbers  of  fresh  troops  to 
the  attack." 

"I  ditfer  with  you,  general,"  responded  Pillow,  nervously.  "I. 
think  you  can  hold  your  lines.     I  think  you  can,  sir." 

"I  knoio  my  j)osition,"  firmly  answered  General  Buckner.  "I 
know  the  lines  cannot  be  held  by  my  troops,  in  their  present  con- 
dition." 

"Then,"  interposed  General  Floyd,  "a  capitulation  is  all  that 
is  left  us." 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  was  the  quick  response  of  General  Pillow. 
"  At  any  rate,  we  can  cut  our  way  out." 

"To  cut  our  way  out  would  cost  us  three-fourths  of  our  men, 
even  if  we  should  succeed  at  all ;  and  I  do  not  think  any  com- 
mander has  a  right  to  sacrifice  three-fourths  of  his  command  to 
save  one-fourth,"  responded  the  noble  Buckner. 

The  second  scout  entered  the  room. 

"The  enemy  completely  surround  us.  Our  works  are  fully 
invested." 

"  Send  out  scouts  to  see  if  the  back  water  can  be  passed  by  the 
army." 

The  command  was  immediately  obeyed,  two  of  Colonel  Forrest's 
cavalry  being  dispatched  for  that  purpose. 

Soon  they  return,  and  report,  "  Cavalry  can  pass — infantry  can- 
not." 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  what  are  we  to  do  ?"  asked  General  Buckner, 
on  the  reception  of  this  intelligence. 

"Understand  me,  gentlemen,"  responded  General  Pillow,  "I  am 
for  holding  out  at  least  a  day  longer — getting  boats,  and  crossing 
the  command  over  the  river.  As  for  myself,  I  will  never  sur- 
render, I  will  die  first." 

"Nor  will  I,"  interposed  General  Floyd.     "  I  cannot  and  will 


68  RAIDS    AND    KOMAXCE 

not   surrender;    but,   I  must   confes?,    personal   reasons   control 
me." 

"  But  such  considerations  should  never  control  a  general's  ac- 
tions," responded  the  heroic  Buckner.  "I  see  nothing  that  can 
be  done  but  to  yield  the  command  and  the  position.  It  is  humil- 
iating, it  is  true,  deeply  humiliating,  to  be  driven  to  surrender  to 
such  a  foe ;  but  as  we  are,  unfortunately,  placed  in  a  position 
where  all  the  dictates  of  humanity  require  it,  it  is  best,  in  my 
judgment,  that  it  should  be  done." 

''I  shall  never  surrender.  General  Buckner,"  responded  Gen- 
eral Pillow,  warmly.  "  I  go  out  from  here  a  free  man,  or  die 
where  I  stand.  I  shall  surrender  to  Grant  neither  the  command 
nor  myself." 

General  Buckner  sat  calm,  grave,  thoughtful.  He  had  been 
overruled  in  his  decision.  Should  he  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
hated  foe,  he  had  more  to  meet,  perhaps,  than  either  of  the  other 
commanders.  He  knew  the  sword  of  vengeance  had  been  whetted 
against  him  by  his  enemies  at  home,  who  stood  ready,  whenever 
he  should  fall  into  their  power,  to  lead  him  to  the  block.  He  could 
hope  for  no  clemency  at  their  hands.  They  had  denounced  him 
as  a  "  base  traitor,"  a  seducer  of  the  young,  a  "  felon,  whose  only 
doom  should  be  the  gallows."  He  knew  that  scorn  and  contempt 
would  be  heaped  upon  him  :  that  he  would  be  made  the  butt  of 
ridicule  and  low  jest;  would  be  inveighed  against  by  the  press  of 
his  own  city,  and  held  up  to  his  fellow-men  as  a  wretch  whose 
crime  merited  the  most  ignominious  punishment.  All  this  he 
knew,  and  as  a  brave,  honorable  man,  he  felt  that  to  die  would  be 
naught  compared  with  a  fate  like  this.  But  there  were  his  brave 
men  around  him. 

They  had  fought  with  a  daring  never  surpassed.  He  thought 
of  their  wives  and  parents,  many  of  whom  were  personally  known 
to  him.  Must  he  sacrifice  them  to  spare  himself  this  deep  abase- 
ment? No !  no!  !  He  would  save  his  men  from  death,  and  share 
their  fate.  Thrice  noble  man!  Among  the  honorable  names  which 
shall  make  the  page  of  our  history  illustrious,  there  will  stand  none 
more  glorious  than  that  of  the  hero  of  Donelson — the  truly  brave, 
the  sublimely  heroic  Buckner. 

"You  have  decided  against  me,  gentlemen,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
seem  to  oppose  you;  but  my  judgment  is  unalterably  against  your 
proposition.  I  cannot  consent  to  sacrifice  my  men  in  this  fearful 
experiment." 

''Will  you  take  command,  General  Buckner,  and  release  us?" 


OF   MORGAN    AND   UIS   ME.V.  69 

asked  General  Floyd  of  liini.  ^'If  yon  decide  to  remain,  find  will 
surrender  the  tort,  1  will  pass  the  coniniand  to  you  tlirough  Gen- 
eral Pillow.  I  am  unyielding  in  my  purpose  to  go  out,  let  it  cost 
what  it  may.'" 

General  Buckncr  exi)ressed  his  willingness  to  accept  the  com- 
mand. 

Geiieml  Floyd  said,  ''  I  turn  over  the  command." 

'•*I  pass  it.  I  will  not  surrender,"  responded  General  Pillow, 
quickly. 

General  Buckner  immediately  called  for  {)en,  ink,  pai)er,  and  a 
bugler. 

"  Well,  general,  will  I  be  permitted  to  take  my  brigade  out,  if 
I  can?"  interrogated  General  Floyd. 

"Certainly ;  if  you  can  get  them  out  before  the  terms  of  capitu-' 
lation  are  agreed  on,"  was  the  reply. 

The  two  generals  made  what  hurried  preparations  were  neces- 
sary, and  gatheyng  together  as  many  of  their  command  as  was 
possible,  left  the  fort;  and  when  daylight  came  they  were  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  enemy. 

General  Buckner  immediately  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  General 
Grant,  bearing  the  following  proposition: 

"  Headquarters,  Fokt  Donelson, 
Feb.  16th,  1862. 

''Sir  : — In  consideration  of  all  the  circumstances  governing  the 
present  situation  of  affairs  at  this  station,  I  propose  to  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  Federal  forces  the  appointment  of  commis- 
sioners to  agree  upon  terms  of  capitulation  of  the  forces  and  fort 
under  my  command,  and  ia  that  view  suggest  an  armistice  until 
12  o'clock  to-day." 

To  which  Grant  replied  in  the  following  terms,  alike  unworthy 
of  a  gentleman  and  an  officer: 

"Sib: — ^Yours  of  this  date,  proposing  an  armistice  and  appoint- 
ment of  commissioners  to  settle  terms  of  capitulation,  is  just  re- 
ceived. 

"No  terms,  except  unconditional  and  immediate  surrender,  can 
be  accepted.     I  propose  to  move  immediately  on  your  works." 

To  which  General  Buckner  responded: 


70  .       EAEDS   AND   EOMANCE 

"Sir: — The  distribution  of  the  forces  under  my  command,  inci- 
dent to  an  unexpected  change  of  commanders,  and  the  overwhehn- 
ing  force  under  your  command,  compel  me,  notwithstanding  the 
brilliant  success  of  the  Confederate  arms  yesterday,  to  accept  the 
ungenerous,  unchivalrous  terms  which  you  propose." 


OF    MOEGAN    AND   HIS   MEN. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE    SURRENDER. 


Weary  men  slept  on,  all  unconscious  of  the  dreadful  fate  that 
awaited  them.  Tiiey  were  dreaming  of  the  battle-field  and  of 
victory. 

Morning  came.  The  black  leaden  clouds  of  winter  hung  like  a 
dark  funeral  pall  over  the  doomed  fort.  All  was  still  as  grim 
death,  who  held  his  dread  and  silent  banquet  over  the  gory  battle- 
field. 

The  reveille  was  sounded.  Men  arose  from  their  death-like 
sleep  and  grasped  their  arms,  to  rush  to  the  contest.  But  no 
sound  of  booming  cannon  met  their  ear,  no  warlike  movements 
greeted  their  eye. 

What  did  all  this  mean  ?  Had  the  enemy,  foiled  in  his  attempt, 
withdrawn  ?  Surely  this  must  be  so,  else  why  this  silent  apathy? 
They  Io(»k  out  through  the  gray  mists,  and  there,  waving  in  the 
morning  light,  is  the  white  Ji(tg  of  surrender.  Soon  the  dreadful 
intelligence  runs  through  the  ranks.  They  are  the  prisoners  of 
the  hated  foe.  Never,  never  will  they  submit  to  this  ignominy. 
Sooner  shall  their  own  swords  drink  their  life-blood,  than  they 
become  the  scoflf  and  butt  of  Yankee  vengeance.  The  whole  gar- 
rison was  moved  as  one  man  to  oppose  this  shameful  fate.  S()me 
cursed  the  treachery  of  their  commanders.  Others  swore  to  be  re- 
venged on  those  who  had  sacrificed  them.  Some  sat  sad  and  de- 
jected, slupified  by  the  stunning  blow,  while  many  a  stout  man 
wept  like  an  infant,  when  he  read  his  humiliating  doom. 

Resistance  was  useless  now.  The  die  was  cast.  On  came  the 
Yankee  conquerors.  Strains  of  martial  music  heralded  their  ap- 
proach. 

Silent  in  his  tent  sat  General  Buckner.  His  tried  and  faithful 
statf  were  around  him.  Tiiey  truly  sympathized  with  him,  but 
they  knew  the  vanity  of  words  in  such  a  trial  as  this,  and  they 
attempted  no  consolation.  Each  fully  npproved  of  his  course  in 
the  surrender.     They  knew  it  was  all  he  could  do,  and  every  man 


72  RAIDS    AND    EOMANCE 

expressed  himself  ready  to  share  his  leader's  fate,  let  it  be  what- 
ever it  might. 

Every  thing  in  the  fort  was  taken  possession  of  by  the  victors, 
even  the  private  baggage  of  the  soldiers.  The  Yankee  general, 
Grant,  issued  orders  to  the  garrison  to  be  ready  for  transportation 
to  Northern  camps. 

Cliarley — as  all  of  his  Kentucky  copatriots — had  fought  gal- 
lantly under  the  leadership  of  the  daring  Hanson.  Exiiausied, 
trembling  in  every  nerve  with  fatigue  and  cold,  he  and  young 
Lawrence  sat  beside  each  other,  stupified  under  the  consci(jusness 
of  being  captives  in  the  hands  of  the  Yankees.  Silently  they  ob- 
served the  movements  of  the  victors,  as  they  passed  from  group 
to  group,  demanding  the  surrender  of  the  prisoners'  arms. 

*' I  have  fought  for  three  days,  John;  I  have  slept  in  those 
muddy  trenches,  exposed  to  driving  snow  and  sleet;  have  gone 
without  a  moutliful  of  food  for  twenty-four  hours;  my  feet  are 
frost-bitten,  and  my  clothes  are  frozen  on  me,  but  I  would  rather 
endure  all  this  a  thousand  times  over  than  to  go  to  one  of  those 
Yankee  prisons." 

"  And  so  would  I,  Charley.  But  what  can  we  do?  We  cannot 
.help  ourselves.  It's  all  that  is  left  us  now.  Look  at  that  das- 
tardly pack  of  thieves.  See,  they  are  demanding  Bob's  n)oney. 
They  have  taken  his  arras  from  him,  and  now  they  will  rob  him. 
But  he'll  not  give  it  up.  Listen,  he  is  cursing  them ;  and  see, 
they  cower  before  him — and  two  to  one — and  he  a  prisoner  with- 
out arms."' 

"  Let's  break  our  guns,  John.  I  can  never  yield  mine  to  the 
■wretches.     I  feel  it  would  be  an  eternal  disgrace." 

"Agreed,  Charley.  But  we'll  have  to  be  quick  about  it. 
They'll  be  upon  us  directly." 

The  two  stepped  behind  a  tent,  and  battering  their  arms  as  well 
as  tiiey  could,  threw  them  into  a  ditch. 

"There,"  said  John,  as  he -dashed  his  into  the  mud  with  all  his 
might,  "  I  am  saved  that  humiliation,  anyhow.  And  if  one  of  the 
cowardly  thieves  dares  to  insult  rae,  TU  knock  hiin  over,  if  he 
shoots  me  for  it  the  next  minute." 

"  I  could  bear  this  thing  better,  John,  if  it  were  not  for  mother. 
You  know  how  bitterly  she  opposed  my  coming  to  the  army,  and 
I  know  she  will  be  frantic  when  she  hears  I  am  a  prisoner.  I 
believe  I'll  try  to  escape.  It  may  be  that  I  can  overtake  those 
men  who  w'ent  out  early  this  morning." 

"  Good,"  answered  John,  "  let's  try  it.     We  can  get  beyond  the 


OF    MORUA^'   AND   UIS   MEN.  73 

iutrenchinents  and  secrete  oui>elves  until  the  army  leaves  here, 
and  Mwiybe  we  can  reach  some  friendly  house  where  we  can  get 
shelter  until  we  rest  and  recruit.  I  don't  believe  I  can  live 
twenty-four  hours  longer  in  this  condition." 

The  two  took  from  their  haversacks  the  morsel  of  bread  they 
contained,  and,  having  carefully  looked  around  them  to  see  if 
danger  was  near,  they,  under  cover  of  the  tents,  passed  the  lu.-t 
trench  and  set  out  on  their  proposed  plan  of  escape. 


EAIDS   AND  BOMANCE 


CHAPTER   XTII. 


REMOVAL     TO     PRISON. 


As  stealthily  as  they  could,  avoiding  every-appearance  of  dan- 
ger, the  two  young  soldiers  moved  on  until  they  had  placed  a 
slight  elevation  between  their  position  and  the  fort.  Just  before 
them  was  some  underbrush.  If  they  could  but  reach  it,  they 
would  be  safe.  They  paused  and  looked  around,  to  see  if  any  one 
was  in  view.  No  one  was  near  enough  to  watch  tlieir  move- 
ments. Quickening  their  pace  into  a  run,  they  sprang  forward 
towards  the  covert.  Like  men  running  for  life,  they  bounded  on- 
ward, every  muscle  strained  for  the  race. 

They  had  almost  gained  it,  when  suddenly  a  coarse  voice  called 
out,  "  Halt,  or  I'll  shoot  you."  At  the  same  time  a  squad  of  Lin- 
coln soldiers  appeared,  emerging  from  the  bushes. 

Resistance  would  have  been  folly  ;  they  were  outnumbered, 
four  to  one.  To  attempt  to  elude  their  captors  was  impossible. 
There  was  nothing  left  them  but  to  obey  the  command. 

With  loud  oaths  and  fiendish  imprecations  they  were  immedi- 
ately marched  back  to  the  fort ;  from  thence  to  the  river,  where 
boats  were  in  waiting  to  transport  the  prisoners  to  their  destina- 
tion. 

Charley  and  his  friend,  young  Lawrence,  were  placed  on  the 
same  vessel  with  General  Buckner,  his  staff,  and  tlie  Kentucky 
oflacers.  In  this  they  regarded  themselves  most  fortunate,  for 
many  of  the  Second  Kentucky  were  hurried  into  other  boats. 

The  prisoners  were  taken  from  the  fort  to  Cairo.  From  there 
they  were  shipped  by  river  and  railway  to  other  points.  Some 
were  sent  to  St.  Louis,  others  to  Alton,  some  to  Camp  Douglas, 
some  to  Camp  Butler,  while  others  were  forwarded  by  the  Ohio 
river  to  Jeffersonville,  on  their  route  to  Camp  Chase.  Subjected 
to  every  insult,  treated  as  if  they  had  been  brutes,  rather  than 
men,  these  noble  patriots,  who  had  won  for  themselves  imperish- 
able fame,  were  hurried  by  their  vengeful  captors  to  their  various 
places  of  imprisonment.     Wholly  ununiformed,  their  clothes  torn 


OF  MORGAN   AND  lUS   MEN.  75 

ia  the  desperate  light,  and  begrimed  with  imid  and  powder;  their 
coverinjTs  of  every  conceivable  character— blankets  of  all  colors, 
shawls  (;f  every  variety,  carpets  of  various  patterns— these  heroes 
of  Dt)nel-ion  indeeTl  presented  a  sad  and  touching  spectacle. 

And  yet  such  w;ui  the  brutality  and  heartlessness— such  the 
entire  destitution  of  every  emotion  of  humanity  in  the  hearts  of 
these  vulgar,  sunken  wretches,  that  they  jeered  and  scoffed,  and 
with  low  and  cruel  mockery  taunted  their  helpless  prisoners.  But 
helpless  as  they  were  in  the  hands  of  a  base  and  inhuman  foe,  in 
garb  looking  worse  by  far  than  their  slaves  at  home  on  their  plant- 
ations, they  nevertheless  remembered  they  were  born  freemen, 
and  on  every  occasion  they  hurled  back  with  defiant  scorn  the 
ruthless  jests  of  their  coarse  and  ill-bred  assailants. 

Never,  perhaps,  did  the  superior  nobility  of  the  Simthern  char- 
acter sf)eak  out  in  more  striking  contrast  to  tlie  natural  coarseness 
and  heartlessness  of  their  vulgar  foe,  than  on  this  memorable  oc- 
casion. 

General  Buckner  and  staff,  the  officers  and  some  of  the  men  of 
the  Second  Kentucky,  were  sent  from  Paducah  on  board  a  steamer 
to  Jefferson ville,  Indiana. 

Among  the  privates  who  were  forwarded  by  this  route  were 
Charley,  young  Lawrence,  and  another  Keutuckian  named  Bob 
Reed. 

"I  wonder  if  it  is  possible  they  will  allow  us  to  land  at  Louis- 
ville,"  said  Charley  to  his  friend,  as  the  two  stood  shivering  with 
cold  on  the  upper  deck  of  the  boat.  '"I^do  believe  they  will  be 
afraid  to  do  so,  lest  there  should  be  some  demonstration  in  our 
favor." 

"  Why,  Charley,  it  is  a  loyal  city.  There  are  no  traitors  there 
to  make  any  manifestation  of  sympathy  for  such  poor^  miserable 
wretches  as  we  are^^  replied  young  Lawrence,  ironically. 

"Could  the  Southern  men  of  Louisville  once  catch  a  glimpse  of 
General  Buckner,  and  know  for  a  moment  what  shameful  humili- 
ation he  has  to  endure  at  the  hands  of  these  wretches,  they  would 
rescue  him  from  their  clutches,  if  it  cost  them  their  lives.  I  do 
hope  they  will  land  us  there,  if  it  be  but  for  a  few  minutes.  I 
know  there  will  be  crowds  of  friends  to  welcome  and  cheer  us; 
but  I  fear  our  enemies  will  not  be  thus  kind  to  us.  It  would  de- 
light them  to  tantalize  Buckner,  Cassidy,  Johnson,  Colonel  Han- 
son, and  all  of  us,  by  giving  us  only  a  farewell  glimpse  of  our  be- 
loved city." 

As  old  memories,  sacred  and  dear,  rushed  to  Charley's  mind, 


76  RAIDS   AJUfD   KOMAXCE 

he  wept.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  shed  a  tear  since  he  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  victors, 

'•I  am  unmanned,"  said  Charley,  recovering  himself,  after  a  few 
moments;  "  but  I  cannot  help  it,  John.  I  dread  the  idea  of  im- 
prisonment for  this  war.  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  take 
my  chance  on  the  battle-field.  And  to  think  I  shall  pass  so  near 
my  parents  and  sisters,  and  yet  not  be  permitted  to  see  them!  It 
makes  me  a  child,  John." 

Ah,  and  there  was  another  whose  name  our  young  hero  dared 
not  mention.  What  joy  it  would  have  given  him  could  he  have 
felt  assured  that  even  for  one  short  moment  he  should  behold  that 
dear  being — should  catch  from  those  cherished  lips  one  word,  or 
from  those  soft,  blue  eyes,  so  full  of  tender  affection,  one  look  of 
love. 

Great  was  the  excitement  in  Louisville  when  it  was  known  that 
the  boat  bearing  General  Buckner,  his  staff,  and  the  Kentucky 
prisoners  would  reach  the  wharf  that  day. 

The  "Daily  Journal,"  in  each  issue  since  the  fall  of  Donelson, 
had  heaped  upon  General  Buckner  every  abuse  that  its  vindictive 
partisan  editor  could  conceive.  Every  opprobrious  epithet  that  the 
language  could  afford — oftentimes  of  the.most  indelicate  nature — 
had  been  employed  to  make,  if  possible,  his  honorable  name  odious. 
Every  species  of  torture  that  the  fiendish  brain  of  Prentice  could 
invent  had  been  proposed  to  be  inflicted  upon  him  by  the  citizens 
of  his  own  town.  He  had  been  called  ''infamous  wretch,"  "'vile 
seducer  of  the  young  men  of  Kentucky,"  "'hellish  murderer  of  the 
husbands  and  sons  of  his  neighbors,"  ''double-dyed  traitor  to  his 
government  and  State,"  "fiend,"  ''assassin,"  "brute."  This  Con- 
necticut-reared editor  had  said  he  ought  to  suffer,  if  possible,  a 
thousand  deaths  on  the  gallows,  to  expiate  his  crime.  He  also 
proposed  that  "he  should  be  shown  through  the  city  in  a  cage, 
and  that  loyal  men  and  women  should  torture  him  with  red- 
hot  pincers;"  that  he  chould  be  doomed  to  a  felon's  cell,  and 
there  shut  out  from  the  light  of  day,  be  fed  on  bread  and  watep 
until  death  should  come  to  end  his  "infamous  life." 

As  might  be  expected,  such  things  had  wrought  on  the  fierce 
passions  of  the  mob  until  it  was  wild  with  vengeance.  Threats 
were  everywhere  uttered  against  the  distinguished  prisoner.  But 
General  Buckner  had  m;iny  warm  friends  in  Louisville,  men  of 
true  courage  and  high-toned  honor,  who  would  at  any  moment 
have  sacrificed  their  lives  rather  than  he  should  have  been  sub- 
jected to  public  scorn.    This  the  cowardly  editor  and  the  hireling 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS   MEN.  77 

officials  knew.  And  wluie  lliey  boasted  greiit  conteiiipi  lor  liio 
prisoner  and  his  cause,  tliey  secretly  fe.ired  ihe  intiuence  of  one 
and  respecied  the  other.  And  while  throuirh  the  medium  of  their 
perverted  press  they  were  deriding  and  abusing  jjiin,  in  private 
cnucus,  wheie  the  sulgect  was  seriously  discu-sed,  they  decided  it 
would  nt»t  be  safe  to  suffer  the  boat  to  land,  lest  there  should  be 
some  overwhelming  manifestation  of  respect  and  admiration  for 
tiie  patriot  and  his  fellow-prisoners. 

The  boat  was  Hearing  the  city.  It  was  believed,  by  those  on 
board,  that  she  would  touch  at  the  wharf.  Their  liearts  leaped 
with  wild  emotion  as  lier  turrets  and  spires,  so  familiar,  shot  up 
before  their  eager,  longing  gaze.  The  boat  ploughed  on  again>t 
the  current.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  approached  the  city.  With 
folded  arms  and  proud  and  noble  mien,  General  Buckner  stood  on 
deck,  his  staff  around  him.  Never  did  men  more  bespeak  the 
majesty  of  conscious  right  than  did  that  silent  group,  as  they  stood 
there,  triumphant  in  their  defeat,  sublimely  strong  in  their  appa- 
rent weakness.  They  were  stigmatized  by  their  deluded,  vindic- 
tive countrymen  as  traitors;  they  had  been  the  recipients  of  every 
abuse  and  insulr,  the  objects  of  malignant  hate  and  contemptuous 
scorn.  They  were  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  and  unprin- 
cipled foe.  Tlieir  doom  they  knew  would  be  fearful — perhaps  life- 
long imprisonment — perhaps  a  violent  death.  Should  the  cause 
they  had  espoused  fail  to  succeed,  in  all  future  history  their  names 
would  be  handed  down  to  posterity  covered  with  infamy.  This 
was  the  bitterest  tliought  of  all.  To  an  honorable  man,  disgrace  is 
more  dreadful  far  than  direst  pangs  of  dearh. 

Motionless  and  pale  with  anxiety,  Charley  stood  leaning  on  the 
railing,  lie  was  alone,  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  which,  to 
liira,  were  too  sacred  for  tlie  intrusion  of  his  dearest  friend.  Port- 
laud  was  passed,  and  the  lower  wharf  of  the  city  reached,  yet  the 
boat  kept  steadily  on  her  course.  No  signs  of  landing  were  to 
be  observed.  His  heart  beat  wilaly  with  alternate  hope  and  fear. 
He  bent  eagerly  forward,  and  strained  his  gaze  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  old,  familiar  objects.  The  boat  veered  to  the  right,  as  if  seek- 
ing the  shore.  Oh  !  how  his  pulses  leaped  !  His  heart  quickened 
its  throbbings;  tears  he  could  not  suppress  rushed  to  his  eyes. 
If  he  could  but  see  some  dear,  remembered  face;  grasp,  even  for 
a  moment,  some  kindly  hand ;  hear  the  tones  of  some  familiar 
voice;  it  would  sweeten  the  bitter  cup,  gild  the  rayless  gloom.  It 
was  a  moment  of  torturing  suspense.  Street  after  street  is  passed, 
the  wharf  is  in  sight;  yet  the  boat  moves  not  from   its  forward 


7S  RAIDS    AND    KOMANCK 

course.  The  landing  is  filled  with  spectators  of  all  classes,  from 
the  sad,  sympathizing  friend,  to  the  vicious  Yankee  and  idly-gaz- 
ing negro.  His  look  strains  itself  as  it  wanders  from  group  to 
group,  searcliing  for  some  one  he  knows. 

Will  not  some  kindly  eye  see  him  ?  shall  he  not  receive  some 
token  of  recognition  ?  Surely,  there  must  be  some  one  in  that  vast 
assemblage  who  knows  him — some  well-remembered  lace  that  he 
will  soon  descry.  But  not  a  voice  is  heard,  not  a  handkerchief 
waved.  As  fades  away  the  brilliant  mirage  of  the  desert  before 
the  charmed  gaze,  and  leaves  behind  but  wild  wastes  and  burning 
sands  to  mock  the  eye  of  the  worn  traveller,  so  died  away  the 
high  and  cherished  hopes  of  the  heart-sick  soldier-boy,  and  naught 
remained  to  him  but  disappointment  and  bitter  tears.  The  crowd 
stands  motionless,  gazing  on  the  scene.  The  prisoners  stand 
motionless,  gazing  on  the  crowd.  The  boat  keeps  on — on — 
the  last  faint  hope  is  gone,  and  Charley's  heart,  strained  with 
anxious  desire  almost  to  bursting,  sinks,  dies;  and  like  the  orphan 
child  who  sits  itself  down  to  weep  under  its  crushing  sense  of 
loneliness,  so  the  sad,  disappointed  prisoner,  burying  his  face  in 
Lis  trembling  hands,  wept  bitterly. 

The  boat  landed  on  the  opposite  shore,  at  Jeffersonville.  The 
prisoners  were  hurried  from  the  boat  to  the  depot,  where  the  cars 
were  under  steam  to  carry  them  to  Columbus,  Ohio.  As  they 
were  driven  along,  friends  from  Kentucky  line  either  side  of  the 
w^ay.  Only  a  look  of  recognition,  a  low-spoken  word  of  sympathy, 
perhaps  a  nervous  shake  of  the  hand,  as  some  loving  heart  ejacu- 
lates a  "  God  bless  and  protect  you."  This  is  all  that  is  permitted. 

x\s  Charley  was  waiting  his  turn  to  ascend  the  steps  of  the  car, 
he  heard  his  name  pronounced  in  a  soft,  low  voice.  He  started, 
and  looked  round.  There  stood  Lu  and  Mary.  He  sprang  towards 
them.  The  guard  seized  and  drew  him  back  to  his  position,  not, 
however,  before  he  had  received  the  package  which  his  sister  held 
out  to  him.  A  moment  more,  and  he  was  rudely  thrust  forward, 
and  had  gained  the  car.  Through  the  open  window  he  gazed  into 
the  seething  mass  before  him.  But  vainly.  Lu  and  Mary  could 
not  be  seen.     They  were  lost  in  the  crowd. 


UV   MORGAN    AND   DIS   M1:N.  79 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CAMP    CHASE. 

What  a  thrill  of  horror  seizes  the  soul  as  this  dreadful  naihe 
meets  the  earl  Synonym  of  injustice,  cruelty,  and  sutfering,  how 
black  will  be  thy  calendar  of  crimes,  when  portrayed  by  the  ])en 
of  impartial  history  to  the  gaze  of  an  astonished  world  I  Thy 
record  has  gone  up  before  the  tribunal  of  eternal,  immutable  jus- 
tice, and  fearful  must  be  the  doom  that  awaits  the  authors  and 
abettors  of  thy  deep,  dark  wrongs. 

The  prisoners  were  marched  immediately  from  Columbus  to 
Camp  Chase,  a  distance  of  six  miles,  without  a  moment's  pause 
for  rest,  which  they  so  greatly  needed.  Like  herded  swine,  they 
were  driven  into  this  filthy  inclosure,  there  to  remain  through 
long  months  of  dreary  suifering,  deprived  of  every  thing  like  com- 
fort or  cleanliness,  subjected  to  neglect  and  coarse  insult,  and  in 
many  instances  to  violent  death  at  the  hands  of  their  brutal 
guard. 

The  members  of  General  Buckner's  staff,  and  all  the  officers  of 
Colonel  Hanson's  regiment,  were  detained  here  until  arrangements 
could  be  completed  to  transfer  them  to  Johnson's  Island,  in  the 
bay  of  Sandusky. 

With  studied  cruelty  the  officers  were  proliibited  from  inter- 
course with  their  men,  lest  their  influence  might  serve  to  cheer 
and  console  them  under  their  horrible  treatment.  It  was  hoped 
that  this  measure  might  serve  to  intimidate  the  private  soldiers, 
and  finally  force  them  to  take  the  oath.  But  how  mistaken  were 
all  such  calculations!  The  men  were  actuated  by  the  same  high 
and  patriotic  principles  that  filled  the  b(isoms  of  their  leaders,  and 
were  just  as  determined  as  they,  to  brave  death  rather  than  sub- 
mit to  disgrace. 

It  was  a  loathsome,  disgusting  place,  unfit  for  the  abode  of  the 
most  wretched  criminals.  Filled  with  every  species  of  offensive 
vermin,  the  mud  knee-deep,  in  w^hich  the  men  had  to  stand  like 
beasts  in  the  stall,  with  no  room  for  exercise  by  day,  and  nothing 


80  BATD8    AND   KOMANOR 

but  the  bare  floor  of  an  open  plank  shanty,  throngh  which  the 
bleak  winds  and  driving  snows  had  free  acces.'^,  to  sleep  on  at 
night;  their  disgu^ting  food  doled  out  to  them  in  such  scant 
measure  as  wholly  to  fail  to  meet  the  actual  demands  of  nature; 
without  medicines  or  nurses  for  the  sick;  could  it  be  expected 
that  these  weary,  half-clad  men  could  do  otherwise  than  die  by 
scores  ?  And,  indeed,  was  not  death  a  sweet  relief  to  an  honora- 
ble heart  under  such  sad  trials  ? 

The  men,  in  solemn  vow,  ])ledged  themselves  to  stand  by  their 
oflScers  and  each  other  to  the  last  extremity.  Although  separated 
from  tlieir  officers,  and  all  conversation  with  them  prohibited, 
they  swore  to  avenge  with  their  own  blood  any  insult  that  might 
be  offered  to  them.  Men  and  officers  were  alike  treated  as  if  the}^ 
had  been  felons  of  the  lowest  grade,  the  steadiest  watch  exercised 
over  them  by  the  low,  base  minions  of  an  unprincipled  tyrant; 
subject  at  any  moment  to  be  shot  or  bayoneted  by  these  infidel 
hirelings,  yet  they  never  for  a  moment  lost  the  consciousness 
of  their  superiority,  and  of  the  righteousness  of  their  cause,  and 
never  would  they  cower  before  insolence  or  insult.  Such  was  their 
noble  bearing,  such  their  dignity,  that  even  the  stolid  hearts  of  their 
guard  were  moved  with  respect  and  admiration. 

A  few  days  passed,  when  suddenly,  and  wholly  unexpected, 
Major  Cassidy  was  taken  sick.  This  officer,  of  General  Buckner's 
staff,  was  a  son  of  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  highly  respectable 
citizens  of  Louisville.  His  father,  having  located  in  the  place 
before  it  was  yet  fully  redeemed  from  tlie  swamps  and  malaria 
which  made  its  first  settlement  so  dangerous  to  life,  had  amassed 
a  princely  fortune.  His  sons  had.  from  their  earliest  childhood, 
been  the  recipients  of  all  the  advantages  of  education  and  society 
that  such  immense  wealth  could  afford.  Major  Cassidy  was  a 
husband  and  father,  surrounded  by  all  the  tender  endearments  of 
)iome.  But  when  the  call  came  to  Kentucky's  noble  sons  to  arm 
themselves  in  defence  of  liberty  and  right,  l>e  girded  on  his  sword, 
and  bidding  farewell  to  loving  wife,  prattling  children,  and  gray- 
haired  sire,  he  nobly  went  forth  to  link  himself  with  the  cause  of 
the  South.  He  was  with  General  Buckner  while  at  Bowling  Green, 
at  Russellville,  at  Donelson.  and  in  that  fearful  defeat  decided  to 
remain  beside  him,  and  share  with  him  his  captivity,  rather  than 
desert  his  general  and  his  friend  in  the  hour  of  overthrow  and 
gloom.  And  now  he  was  a  prisoner,  receiving  with  the  others 
all  the  insult  and  trial  that  malice  and  fiendislmess  could  heap 
upon  hiin. 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MlN.  81 

Rapidly  he  grew  worse.  At  the  earnest  solicitations  of  liis 
hrother  officers,  a  »lis[)atch  was  sent  to  his  friends  in  Louisville, 
.'l|)()ri^inJ^  them  of  his  illness.  But  his  disease  quickly  ran  its 
course,  and  before  his  aged  father  and  young  and  loving  wife 
coidd  reach  hini,  he  was  dead. 

This  was  the  first  death  among  the  ofl[icers.  Its  suddenness 
and  niysteriousness  gave  rise  to  suspicions  of  foul  play.  It  was 
said  he  had  died  froin  congestion,  but  there  lurked  in  many  a  mind 
dark  misgivings  as  to  the  truth  of  the  statement.  The  body  was 
j)laced  in  a  metallic  case.  Few  of  the  men  were  permitted  to  gaze 
on  the  noble  form  now  still  in  death.  They  could  only  watch  it 
frym  afar,  as  it  passed  through  the  outer  gate  on  its  way  to  its 
last  resting-place. 

Each  day  new  accessions  were  made  to  the  already  large  num- 
ber of  prisoners  from  among  the  citizens  of  Kentucky  who  were 
susi)ected  of  Southern  sympathies.  No  age  noi:  condition  in  life 
was  free  from  tlie  tyranny  of  arbitrary  arrest.  Old,  gray-haired 
men  with  tottering  limbs,  borne  down  with  the  infirmities  of  age, 
without  any  accusation  against  thera  save  the  general  charge  ot 
disloyalty,  were  snatched  from  their  homes  and  families  by  a 
ruftianly  soldiery,  and  without  a  moment's  preparation — in  many 
instances  not  even  permitted  to  bid  farewell  to  their  wives  and 
children — were  hurried  oflT,  frequently  at  the  hour  of  midnight, 
transferred  across  the  river,  and  incarcerated  in  this  noisome 
prison.  Young  men,  on  whom  depended  the  support  of  their 
helpless  families,  as  they  went  about  their  daily  avocations,  met 
the  bayonet  pointed  to  their  bosoms,  and  found  themselves  pris- 
oners in  the  hands  of  ignorant  Irish  and  Dutch  Lincolnites,  who 
cured  no  more  about  the  Constitution  and  the  laws,  in  whose 
name  and  by  whose  authority  they  claimed  a  right  to  practise 
their  outrages,  than  did  the  perjured  tyrants  at  Washington. 

No  class  of  society  was  exempt.  The  learned  and  unlearned, 
old  and  young,  the  honorable  and  the  obscure — even  ministers  of 
the  gospel — all  alike  were  the  victims  of  relentless  hate  and  cru- 
elty. Will  there  not  be  a  day  of  reckoning  for  all  these  deep, 
dark  wrongs,  and  will  it  not  come  si)eedily  ?  Already  the  throne 
of  the  tyrant  begins  to  totter;  already,  too,  his  unprincipled  and 
debased  tools  begin  to  feel  the  coming  storm  of  wrath  which 
most  surely  will  sweep  them  before  it  to  ruin — fearful,  irremedia- 
ble. An  oppressed  and  outraged  people  will  rise  to  avenge  the 
high- handed  abuses  that  have  been  heaped  upon  them  by  a  base 
abolition  usurpation.     And  when  this  hoar  comes,  and  come  it 

4* 


82  KAlDrf    AND    li(.>MAMCE 

must,  for  justice,  though  long  delayed,  will  surely  overtake  the 
transgressor,  ah,  will  it  not  be  one  of  fearful  inonieut? 

After  a  few  weeks  more,  in  order  to  effectually  remove  the  in- 
fluence of  the  officers  from  their  men,  the  former  were  transferred 
to  Johnson's  Island.  The  men  were  left  in  their  loathsome  con- 
finement. The  daily  round  of  life  was  but  little  varied.  Now  a 
familiar  face  would  be  missed — a  few  days  more,  and  a  plain  pine 
coffin  bore  the  body  to  the  burial-place.  Then  a  fellow-prisoner, 
for  some  imagined  offence  to  the  guard,  w:is  shot  down — before 
the  eyes  of  his  friends.  Then  would  the  demon  of  revenge  take 
possession  of  the  men's  hearts,  and  solemn  vows,  muttered  through 
clenched  teeth,  would  go  up  before  heaven,  to  wipe  out  the  shame- 
ful crime. 

As  the  spring  went  by,  the  character  of  the  prison  ground, 
which  was  a  low,  wet  swamp,  somewhat  improved,  and  the  men, 
to  relieve  the  tediousuess  of  the  weary  hours,  would  sometimes  in- 
dulge in  a  game  of  ball,  and  other  such  athletic  exercises  as  their 
limited  space  would  allow. 

For  two  months  Charley,  with  such  of  his  companions  as  had 
survived  the  hardships  and  deprivations  of  tiiat  horrid  prison,  had 
suffered  on  without  one  ray  of  hope.  They  saw  nothing  before 
them  but  years  of  close  continemeut,  with  all  its  attendants  of  in- 
sult, want,  and  eruiuL  The  oppressive  tedium  was  sometimes 
relieved  by  the  presence  of  a  visitor,  sometimes  by  the  reception 
of  a  letter  from  absent  friends,  at  others,  by  the  arrival  of  a  me- 
mento of  love  and  affection  in  the  form  of  a  box  of  nice  clothes 
and  delicacies.  But,  oh,  it  was  an  irksome  existence  to  men  of 
spirit  and  daring. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  April.  The  sun  shone  brightly  down 
from  the  clear  blue  heavens,  as  if  in  mockery  of  the  wretched 
scene  beneath.  Charley,  leaning  against  a  tree  that  marked  th© 
beat  of  the  guard,  stood  reading  a  letter  from  home.  He  turned 
the  page,  and  there  met  his  eyes  a  pressed  rose-bud,  and  written 
in  his  sister's  own  sweet  hand,  these  words :  "This  is  sent  you  by 
Mary,  Charley." 

Our  young  hero's  face  brightened  into  a  high  flush  as  he  read 
again  and  again  the  charmed  line.  His  heart  quickened  its  beat- 
ings, his  eyes  swam  with  tears. 

"Why,  you  appear  distressed,  Charley,"  said  young  Reed  to 
him,  as  walking  by  he  observed  his  deep  emotion.  "  Is  any  thing 
wrong  at  home,  my  boy,  or  are  you  so  glad  to  get  a  letter  that 
you  can't  help  shedding  a  tear  over  it  ?" 


OF   MORGAN    AND    lllS    MEN.  83 

"Nothing  seriouji,  Bob.  It  is  a  letter  from  my  sister  Lu.  I  am 
so  overjoyed  to  liear  from  my  friends,  that  I  could  not  refrain  a 
slight  manifestation  of  w^eakness.  It  is  the  first  I  have  Iiad  for  six 
weeks.  And  my  sister  writes,  jestingly,  of  course,  that  we  m:iy 
look  for  her  soon  to  make  us  a  vi>it." 

"Does  she  mention  my  sister,  Charley?''  said  John,  who  :it 
this  moment  joined  the  two.  "  I  do  wish  she  would  come  with 
Miss  Lu." 

Ciiarley  endeavored  to  conceal  his  deep  feelings  at  the  mention 
of  Mary's  name.  He  did  not  wish  to  prevaricate,  and  yet  he  felt 
unwilling,  in  the  presence  of  Robert,  to  disclose  the  message. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  after  some  hesitation,  which  seemed  to 
arouse  the  young  men's  curiosity.  ''Lu  says  perhaps  your  sister 
will  accompany  her.  But,  of  course,  John,  the  girls  must  be 
quizzing  us.     They  cannot  seriously  contemplate  such  a  thing." 

"■  Oh,  if  Mary  has  any  such  idea  in  her  head,  siie  will  as  certainly 
make  us  a  visit  as  that  I  shall  shoot  that  cursed  Dutchman  yonder, 
if  ever  I  have  a  chance.  And  you  know,  boys,  that  I  have  sworn 
b}'  the  eternal  heavens  to  do  this.  I  tell  you,  if  my  sister  has 
made  up  her  mind  to  it,  she  will  carry  it  through  at  all  risks.  I 
do  hope  she  has  determined  to  come.  I  would  rather  see  her  than 
anybody  in  the  world.  You  do  not  know  her,  Bob.  I  beUeve  she 
is  the  sweetest  creature  living.     Ain't  she,  Charley?" 

''Certainly,  John,"  replied  the  young  soldier,  with  quite  a  flip- 
pant manner,  that  he  might  avoid  suspicion.  "  Miss  Mary  is  quite 
a  charming  young  lady." 

"Three  cheers  for  Kentucky  and  her  lovely  girls,"  and  John 
took  otf  his  ragged  beaver  and  tossed  it  high  up  in  the  air. 

'■''Three  times  three,"  responded  his  friends. 

"  Come,  Charley,  finish  your  letter,  my  boy,  and  give  us  all  the 
neiprs.  You  are  selfish.  When  I  received  the  letter  from  Mary,  I 
read  it  aloud  to  all  the  Kentucky  boys,  and  they  enjoyed  it  as  much 
as  I  did.  What's  the  matter?  I  do  believe  you  have  got  some 
secret,  you  blush  so.  Well,  Bob,  we'll  give  him  time  to  read  his 
letter,  while  we  walk  round  a  little.  We'll  be  back  this  way, 
after  a  few  minutes,  to  hear  the  news.  We  mustn't  be  disap- 
pointed, you  understand." 

The  two  passed  on,  and  in  a  little  while  were  back  again. 

'•What  news,  Charley?"  asked  John,  walking  up  and  putting 
his  arm  in  his  for  a  stroll.     "  All  well,  I  hope." 

"  Yes.  The  only  new^s  item  is  the  pro[)Osed  visit  of  our  sisters, 
and  this  is  so  vaguely  expressed,  that  I  am  not  sure  I  have  rightly 


84:  RAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 

interpreted  Lu's  ambignous  language.  So  we  must  not  too  san- 
gninelj  anticipate  the  happiness." 

The  three  passed  on.  Charley  was  silent.  They  continued 
walking  for  some  time  to  and  fro  in  the  space  allotted  for  their 
exercise. 

''Why  are  you  so  mum,  Charley,  ray  boy?"  said  John,  with- 
drawing his  hand  ;ind  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "Some- 
thing's wrong  with  you.  You  act  so  mysteriously.  Come,  Bob, 
let's  besiege  him  until  we  rally  his  sjjirits." 

"No  need  of  that,  John.  Til  tell  you  and  Bob  all  about  ir,  but 
you  must  guard  my  secret  as  you  would  your  own  life,  boys. 
Should  I  be  betrayed,  I  dare  not  think  of  the  result.  We  must 
speak  low,  the  guard  might  overhear  us.  Come  a.>ide  by  this 
house.     We  will  be  free  from  notice  there." 

The  three  stepped  aside,  and  reached  a  secluded  spot.  Seating 
liimself  between  them,  Charley  undertook  to  unfold  iiis  secret. 

"I  have  been  thinking  for  several  days  of  proposing  to  you  to 
escape.  I  cannot  stand  this  life  much  longer.  I  would  rather 
die.  And  this  letter  from  home,  together  with  the  shocking  death 
of  that  young  Virginian,  has  determined  me  in  ray  purpose.  What 
say  you,  boys,  will  you  risk  it  ?" 

*"  Wasn't  that  a  brutal  murder,"  interrupted  young  Lawrence, 
*' to  shoot  that.poor  fellow  through  the  heart,  just  because  he 
accidentally,  and  in  play,  crossed  the  beat?  And  that  poor  raan 
who  was  shot  by  that  Dutch  scoundrel  last  week,  merely  because 
he  carelessly  threw  out  his  arm  in  the  rascal's  way.  Oh  !  I  tell 
you,  boys,  I  want  to  kill  every  one  of  them,  from  Abe  Lincoln 
down  to  that  old  fool,  Dick,  that  sw\sggers  around  here,  with  not 
sense  enough  to  know  how  to  carry  his  gun.  Never  mind;  if  I 
ever  get  out  of  this  infernal  place,  I'll  avenge  all  the  murders  that 
have  been  committed  here.  I  here  swear,  boys,  eternal  hate^o 
the  Yankees.*' 

"Amen  and  amen,"  responded  his  companions. 

"  But,  tell  me,  Charley,"  resumed  his  friend,  "  have  you  de- 
cided on  any  plan?  Will  you  bribe  the  guard,  or  try  to  get  out 
secretly  ?" 

"Secretly,  of  course.  I  would  never  trust  those  wretches;  and 
then,  besides,  I  have  no  money.  You  know  they  robbed  me  of  it, 
and  they  have  never  allowed  me  but  two  dollars  at  a  time  since, 
of  all  the  money  father  has  sent  me." 

"They  are  nothing  but  thieves  and  murderers,  the  best  of  them, 
Charley.     But  never  mind,  the  day  will  soon  come  when  we'll 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  85 

pay  off  the  reckoning.  I  tell  yon,  I'll  never  be  surrendered  again. 
I  do  wish  to  get  out  of  this  internal  place,  if  it  is  for  nothing 
more  than  to  shoot  the  Yankees.  However,  boys,  we  settled  this 
sc(»re  with  them  at  Donelson.  We  swept  them  down  there  by 
hundreds.  But  tell  us,  wbat  about  gettiiig  out?  I  will  share  your 
fate.  If  you  cm  grf,  so  can  I.  Bob,  what  say  you?  Are  you 
willing  to  risk  tiie  thing?" 

'^  Yes,  John,  if  the  platj  is  at  all  feasible,  I  am  ready  to  under- 
take it  with  you  and  Cliarley." 

"i  iiave  no  settled  plan,  boys.  Several  have  passed  through 
my  mind,  but  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  of  them  all  which  I 
do'  not  know  how  to  overcome.  We  must  not  go  before  our  sis- 
ters come.  But  hush,  boys;  see  that  guard  yonder?  he's  watch- 
ing us.     We'll  meet  again." 


8G  KAIDS    AND    liuMAKCK 


\ 

CHAPTER  XV. 


THE    VISIT    OF    THE    NUNS. 

Bust  were  the  minds  of  the  prisoners  that  niglit  in  their  endeav- 
ors to  hit  upon  some  practicable  method  of  escape.  Long  after 
the  hour  of  midnight,  Charley  was  canvassing  tlie  subject  with 
deep  and  earnest  tliought.  No  scheme  suggested  itself  tliat  was 
not  attended  with  great  difficulties.  Even  should  they  succeed 
in  clearing  the  prison  walls,  what  would  they  do  in  a  strange  and 
hostile  country,  with  enemies  on  every  side?  And  should  they  be 
overtaken,  how  greatly  would  their  sufferings  be  increased  !  But 
some  risk  must  be  run.  Surely  the  object  to  be  secured  was  worth 
the  hazard.  Tlius  soliloquized  Ciiarley  to  himself,  as  he  tossed 
on  bis  hard  plank  bed.  But  after  hours  of  feverish  tliought  he 
could  decide  upon  no  plan  that  appeared  to  him  feasible.  And 
he  fell  into  a  disturbed  sleep,  his  brain  haunted  with  visions  of 
attempted  escape,  arrest,  bayonets,  and  death. 

No  opportunity  presented  itself  during  the  following  morning 
for  consultation.  The  meeting  must  seem  accidental,  otherwise 
suspicion  would  be  aroused.  The  boys  w^ere  several  times  to- 
gether, but  always  in  presence  of  the  guard,  or  their  fellow-pris- 
oners. 

Charley  and  John  were  busily  engaged  in  a  game  of  ball  near 
the  entrance  of  the  inclosure,  when  their  attention  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  the  appearance  of  two  nuns,  who,  escorted  by  the 
captain  of  the  guard,  stood  near  tlie  plank  gateway.  Each  nun 
bore  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  a  small  package  in  her  hand.  Tiie 
players  paused  a  moment  to  observe  them,  but  as  such  visitors 
were  by  no  means  unusual,  they  resumed  again  the  game.  The 
oflBcer,  after  having  shown  the  sisters  in,  left  them  to  pursue  their 
mission  of  charity  unattended. 

The  two  females  were  clad  in  deep  mourning.  Their  closely 
fitting  bonnets  completely  shielded  their  faces.  Timidly  they 
moved  along  towards  the  play-ground.  Bowing  to  the  guard, 
and  handing  him  a  tract,  they  proceeded  hesitatingly  towards  the 
prisoners  in  front  of  them. 


OF   MOKOAN    AND    HIS    MKN^  87 

As  they  approaclied,  the  ineii  left  otY  their  game  to  receive 
them. 

*'Some  more  of  tlie  sanctimonious  sisters,  with  their  little 
tracts,"  said  John  to  a  young  Mississippian  by  his  side.  "They 
are  very  anxious  indeed  about  our  souls,  the  hypocrites.  I  wish 
they  would  manifest  a  more  tender  regard  for  our  bodies.  I  think 
we  have  done  penance  enough  since  we  came  to  this  place  to  atone 
for  all  past  sins.  I  don't  see  what  more  the  veriest  saint  among 
them  Could  require  at  our  hands.  For  my  part,  I  am  tired  to 
death  of  their  little  books,  and  their  holy  advice,  and  I'll  end  the 
matter  forthwith  this  time,  by  distributing  the  tracts  myself.  See 
liow  gallantly  I'll  relieve  them  of  their  business,  boys,"  and  off  the 
young  man  hastened  on  his  self-imposed  mission,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  his  comrades,  who  quit  their  play  for  the  moment 
to  note  his  success. 

As  lie  ueared  where  the  two  females  stood,  he  observed  the  half- 
raised  basket-lid  fall  from  the  hand  of  one  of  them,  who  fixed  lier 
eyes  intently  upon  him.  He  felt  rather  abashed  to  meet  her  ear- 
nest look,  but  he  had  undertaken  his  work,  and  would  not  be 
thwarted.     He  knew  his  companions  were  observing  him. 

"Good-morning,  ladies,"  he  said,  at  the  same  time  bowing  very 
cavalierly,  and  tipping  his  ragged  beaver.  "  Have  you  any  re- 
ligious books  for  us  poor  sinners  this  morning?  .We  stand  sadly 
in  need  of  your  tracts,  good  sisters,  and  are  most  happy  to  see 
that  you  take  such  an  interest  in  our  spiritual  welfare.  There  are 
but  few  who  seem  to  care  for  us  poor  rebels.  But  let  me  relieve 
you  of  the  very  unpleasant  task  of  going  round  to  distribute  your 
books  among  all  these  graceless  sinners.  Just  hand  them  to  me. 
I  assure  you  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  happiness  to  aid  you  in 
your  good  work,"  and  he  extended  his  hand  to  receive  the  pack- 
ages. 

One  of  the  nuns  grasped  it  nervously.     He  started  back  amazed. 

"John,  don't  you  know  me — Mary,  your  sister?  But  hush! 
for  your  life  don't  betray  us !  We  have  risked  every  thing  to  see 
you." 

The  boys,  who  had  been  remarking  his  gallant  air,  at  this  junc- 
ture burst  into  a  merry  laugh.  "Served  him  right!"  "served 
him  right!"  exclaimed  several  of  them.  "He  should  have  left 
the  holy  sisters  alone,  to  pursue  their  labor  of- love.  Wasn't  he 
taken  back  ?"  and  a  loud  laugh  rang  out  from  the  amused  be- 
holders. 

Our  hero  stood  for  a  few  moments  perfectly  bewildered.     Ho 


88  Jl     EAIDS   AND   EOMA^XE 

could  not  tell  what  to  think  of  tliis  strange  incident.  Could  it 
really  be  Mary?  or  was  some  one  trying  to  deceive  him?  The 
young  nun  looked  hastily  around  at  the  guard,  and  seeing  that  he 
was  intent  on  the  tract  she  had  just  handed  him,  she  stepped  for- 
ward to  the  young  man,  lifted  her  bonnet,  and  threw  back  the 
snowy  frill  of  her  nmslin  cap.  The  dark,  auburn  ringlets  escaped 
from  their  hiding,  and  fell  over  tlie  beautiful  brow. 

John  was  convinced — petrified.  He  could  scarcely  credit  his 
senses. 

''  Mary  !  Mary  !"  he  exclaimed.    "  How  on  earth  came  you  liere  ?" 

''Hu.-h,  John,  hush,  I  tell  you  I  We'll  be  arrested  and  sent 
away  to  a  dungeon.  Can't  you  take  us  to  some  spot  where  we 
won't  be  observed  ?" 

''Anywhere,  so  that  we'll  be  removed  from  the  eye  of  the 
guard.     So  here  is  Charley.     He  must  come  with  you." 

"  Where, is  he — my  brother  ?"  asked  the  sister  nervously,  speed- 
ing from  tlie  door. 

Quick  as  thought  the  prisoner  comprehended  the  whole  position. 
He  must  be  calm,  or  every  thing  would  be  lost.  The  game  must 
be  played,  and  played  successfully.  Commanding  himself,  he 
took  a  tract  from  his  sister  Mary's  basket,  and  slowly  turned  the 
leaves,  as  if  closely  examining  the  little  work. 

'•  Your  brother  is  with  that  group  to  our  right,  Miss  Lu,  but 
you  cannot  speak  to  him  now.  Tlie  prisoners  must  not  know 
who  you  are.     It  might  lead  to  trouble." 

''But  I  can  see  him,  can't  I?"  asked  the  young  girl,  eagerly. 
"  I  cannot   leave  this  place  until  I  do." 

"  You  shall  see  him,  if  possible..  But  we  shall  have  to  be  very 
careful.  If  you  and  Mary  are  discovered,  you  will  certainly  be 
arrested,  and  perhaps  imprisoned." 

He  mused  for  a  moment,  in  deep  thought,  then  looking  up,  he 
said  : 

'*  Do  you  see  that  house  to  the  left  ?  You  two  pass  on  towards 
that,  give  pamphlets  to  the  prisoners  as  you  go,  and  I  will  get 
Charley  and  join  you  directly.  There  we  will  be  safe  to  say  what 
we  please.  But  give  me  some  tracts  to  hand  to  tlie  boys  here — 
that  will  divert  their  attention  from  us." 

The  two  nuns  passed  on  as  directed.  John  took  his  tracts  and 
returned  to  the  group. 

"  Why  didn't  you  relieve  the  sisters  of  their  mission,  John  ?" 
the  boys  asked,  laughing,  and  taunting  at  his  failure.  "Your 
gallantry  died  out  in  their  presence." 


OF  MORGAN  AND   HIS   ME^  bS^ 

*'0h,  they  are  rigliteou:?  overinucli,  boys — liope  to  get  to 
hf'aven  on  llieir  .good  deeds — and  attacli  great  virtue  to  distribu- 
ting their  pamphlets.  I  soon  saw  tliey  were  bent  on  their  pur- 
pose, and  it  was  no  use  for  me  to  offer  service.  But  I  succeeded 
in  getting  these.  Come,  poor  rebels,  learn  to  do  riglit  from  these 
holy  books,"  and  saying  this,  he  took  tiie  wrapper  otF  and  handed 
them  round. 

"Here,  Charley,  my  boy,  here  is  one  that  just  suits  our  case. 
Tiirow  down  your  bandy,  and  let's  read  it,  I  don't  believe  you 
want  to  learn  your  duty.  Oh,  what  a  wretched  sinner  you 
are!" 

''  I'm  tired  to  death,  John,  of  these  Catholic  books.  I'm  a  Prot- 
estant, and  don't  believe  one  word  in  their  holy  water,  and  pen- 
ance, and  purgatory,  and  saints.  I  am  just  as  g(K)d  as  any  of  tliem, 
and  I  don't  intend  to  bother  my  head  with  them  any  longer." 

"  But  this  doesn't  say  a  word  about  saints  and  crucifixes.  It  is 
an  appeal  to  sinners,  and  you  know  you  are  one.  Here,  look  at 
this  first  page,"  and  John  whispered  a  word  into  his  ear  as  he 
stood  beside  him.  "■  Are  you  not  convinced?  Come,  let's  go  and 
read  it," 

The  two  set  out  towards  the  low,  wooden  house. 

''  Hold  there,  buys,"  called  out  Bob,  who  supposed  they  were 
going  apart  for  consultation  ;  ''  wait,  and  I'll  go  with  you,  I'm  a 
sinner,  too,  and  may  be  your  book  will  do  me  good." 

Joining  his  friends,  he  proceeded  with  them  towards  the  house. 
He  was  hurriedly  initiated  into  the  secret  as  they  passed  along. 
The  two  nuns  were  overtaken  just  as  they  reached  the  door  of  the 
building, 

"  Here,  this  door,  Mary,"  and  the  two  brothers  entered  quickly, 
followed  by  the  sisters,  while  Bob  lingered  outside  to  look  out  for 
any  danger. 

With  ditRculty  Charley  mastered  his  emotion  as  he  beheld  the 
face  of  his  sister  and  that  of  Mary.  He  scarcely  knew  how  to  con- 
duct himself,  his  surprise  and  joy  were  so  great.  But  he  must 
not  yield  to  his  emotions — the' time  was  short,  and  he  had  much 
to  say. 

Mutual  surprise  and  embarrassment  were  soon  succeeded  by 
pleasant  and  joyous  conversation.  Kind  inquiries  were  made  for 
friends  and  acquaintances,  and  many  questions  asked  about  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place  in  the  city  since  the  young  men 
left  it. 

The  fight  at  Donelson  was  graphically  described  to  the  sisters, 


90  Jl^    KAIDS    AND    RUMANCE 

and  some  of  the  horrors  of  their  two  months'  imprisonment  por- 
trayed to  their  shuddering  hearts. 

"  But,  Ciiarley,  why  don't  you  get  out  of  this  wretched  place?" 
asked  his  sister  Lu,  with  tears  streaming  down  her  face.  "  1  would 
rather  die  in  the  attempt  to  escape  than  remain  longer  here.  I 
have  heard  of  several  prisoners  who  have  succeeded.  Can't  you 
do  so  too  ?" 

'•  We  have  that  very  thing  under  consideration  now,  Lu — John, 
Bob,  and  I ;  but  we  don't  see  how  it  is  to  be  done.  We  were 
trying  all  last  uiglit  to  decide  upon  some  plan  of  escape  ;  but  there 
are  so  many  difficnhies  in  the  way,  it  seems  almost  hopeless  to 
make  any  attempt.  John,  did  you  come  to  any  conclusion,  or 
you.  Bob  ?" 

"■  None  as  to  the  loay.  But  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go  out. 
As  Miss  Lu  says,  better  die  trying  than  live  here." 

"  Can't  you  bribe  the  guards  ?"  said  Mary,  as  she  opened  her 
basket,  and  turning  up  the  tracts,  drew  forth  a  well-filled  port- 
monnaie.     "Here  is  enough  for  three,  I  should  think." 

''  Hazardous  experiment.  Miss  Mary.  These  creatures  are  so 
treacherous.  One  of  the  prisoners  gave  a  sentinel  a  twenty-dollar 
gold  piece  to  let  him  pass;  the  man,  after  agreeing  to  do  it,  fired 
his  gun,  and  the  poor  fellow  was  retaken,  placed  in  chains,  and 
fed  on  bread  and  w^ater  for  days." 

"■Well,  can't  you  climb  over  the  wall,  or  dig  out?"  she  asked, 
laughing. 

''  The  latter  is  the  only  method  that  seems  to  me  at  all  practi- 
cable, and  I  have  decided  to  try  it.  The  only  obstacle  is  the  dirt. 
I  can't  see  what  we  will  do  with  it.  If  left  where  it  can  be  seen, 
it  will  create  suspicion,  and  every  inch  around  the  inclosure  would 
be  thoroughly  examined." 

"Why,  the  dirt — that's  but  a  small  matter,  Charley.  Put  it  in 
your  hats  and  pockets  until  you  get  out,"  suggested  Mary, 
laughingly. 

"  Capital  idea,  Mary,"  exclaimed  her  brother,  springing  to  his 
feet.  '*That's  just  the  thing.  The  way  is  open  before  us.  We'll 
be  free,  Charley,  won't  we  ?" 

"  But  once  out,  John,  how  are  we  to  get  through  to  Kentucky? 
There  we  would  be  safe.  But  how  are  we  to  pass  through  this 
abolition  State  without  detection  ?" 

*^That  is  a  question,  Charley,  that  must  be  met  before  we  set 
out.  Mary,  can  you  and  Miss  Lu  solve  this  difficulty  for  us  ? 
Woman's  wit  is  always  ready  for  any  emergency." 


OF    MORGAN    AKD    HIS    MEN.  91 

"  Charley,  we  Imve  a  relation,  Cousin  Sara  Lightfoot,  living  near 
the  railroad,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Columbus.  lie  is  as  good  a 
Southern  nmn  as  you  are,  and  I  kn(»w  he  will  be  glad  to  assist 
jou.  You  can  go  there,  and  he  will  direct  you  how  to  get 
through." 

'"■Ah,  Miss  Lu,  I  felt  sure  you  could  devise  some  plan  for  us. 
If  we  can  get  that  far  out  safely,  we'll  certainly  make  good  our 
escape." 

As  the  quartette  were  thus  busily  engaged  in  comjdeting  these 
arrangements.  Bob  suddenly  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door  and 
called  out,  "'  Guard." 

In  a  moment  the  two  gay  ones  subsided  into  meek  and  quiet 
nuns,  and  with  their  books  presented,  were  most  earnestly  urging 
on  their  silent  listeners  the  necessity  of  giving  heed  to  the  things 
pertaining  to  the  world  to  come. 

"  I  think  these  two  young  fellows  are  in  a  fair  way  to  become 
religious,"  said  Bob  to  the  guard,  who  was  an  Irishman  and  a 
Catiiolic.  "  See  how  penitent  they  look,  while  tiiose  two  good 
sisters  are  telling  them  their  duty.  I  have  been  reading  one  of 
their  good  little  books  myself,"  and  he  displayed  the  one  John  had 
left  with  him,  '"and  I  do  believe  the  Catholic  church  is  the  only 
true  church,  after  all." 

'*  To  be  sure  it  is,  sir.  It  is,  indade,  the  only  thrue  church,  an' 
there  ain't  none  beside  it,  at  all,  at  all." 

The  bait  had  taken.  The  man's ^  face  lighted  into  a  regular 
Irish  smile.  He  looked  pleasantly  into  the  door,  and  without 
comment  passed  on. 

''  Here,  my  friend,  you  must  read  this  most  excellent  work," 
said  Bob,  calling  out  to  him  as  he  walked  off.  "I  know  you'll  be 
delighted  with  it." 

"No,  no,  thank  ye,  sir.     Kape  it  yourself.     I  cannot  rade." 

"And  yet  you  are  called  loyal,  you  old  fool,  you,  and  are  placed 
liere  to  guard  me,  when  you  know  no  more  about  constitution  and 
law  than  the  vile  numsculls  that  put  you  here,"  muttered  Bob 
between  his  teeth,  as  he  looked  after  the  ignorant  old  man,  who, 
"  clothed  in  a  little  brief  authority,"  strutted  on,  as  d  la  soldier  as 
it  was  possible  for  one  of  his  calibre  to  do. 

The  mementoes  of  love,  provided  by  the  hand  of  affection  at 
home,  were  given  to  the  young  men.  Full  arrangements  for 
escape  were  made,  hasty  adieus  given,  and  the  two  young 
girls,  with  bonnets  drawn  closely  over  their  faces,  sought  the 
door. 


92  BAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

"We  shall  expect  you  at  the  appointed  time.  Success  to  your 
nnder taking,"  and  witii  meek,  bowed  mien  the  two  nuns  passed 
out,  distributing  their  tracts  as  they  went. 

Tiieir  ruse  had  succeeded  fully.  Not  a  suspicion  had  been 
aroused,  and  the  two  girls  returned  to  Columbus. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    iilS    MEN.  93 


CHAPTER  XV. 

now    THE    I'LAX    OF    ESCAPE    SUCCEEDED. 

"We  must  begin  our  work  to-night,  Cliarley.  By  Saturday 
morning  we  are  to  be  at  your  cousin\s.  Tliis  is  Thursday,  and  if 
we  are  entirely  successful,  we  cannot  more  than  accomplish  our 
purpose.  But' we  must  tell  Bob  about  it,  and  see  if  he  approves 
of  our  plan." 

The  young  friend  was  called  in,  and  the  matter  laid  before  him. 
He  indorsed  it  fully,  and  coincided  in  the  view  of  promptly  be- 
ginning the  work, 

''  But,  boys,  we  cannot  dig  out  to-night,  and  what  are  we 
to  do  with  the  hole  to-morrow?  We  can  carry  the  dirt  in  our 
pockets,  as  Mary  suggested ;  but  who  will  take  care  of  the 
opening?" 

"We  can  put  our  dirty  clothes  over  it,  John.  Yt)U  know  it  is 
our  custom  to  throw  them  beside  the  fence  to  be  washed.  This, 
as  it  is  usual,  will  create  no  suspicion." 

"  Yes,  I  must  have  a  pair  of  new  pants  and  shoes ;  and  so  must 
you,  Charley.  IIow  would  we  look,  my  boy,  in  your  cousin's  par- 
lor, with  this  garb  on?  And,  moreover,  this  will  be  a  good  way 
to  save  our  money.  Bob,  there,  appears  quite  like  a  gentleman, 
with  his  new  suit  from  top  to  toe." 

"I  was  fortunate,  you  see,  boys,  in  getting  mine  when  I  did. 
They  still  have  twenty  dollars  of  my  money ;  but  that's  a  small 
matter.  The  rascals  are  welcome  to  it,  if  I  can  only  be  allowed 
to  bid  them  an  eternal  farewell." 

The  three  young  men  separated — Charley  and  Bob  returned  to 
the  playground,  while  John  went  to  make  application  for  the 
pants  and  shoes. 

Night  came.  Under  cover  of  its  thick  darkness  the  three  pris- 
oners'entered  upon  their  hazardous  undertaking.  In  breathless 
silence  they  pursued  thejr  work,  using  only  their  penknives 
and  three  sharp  sticks  which  they  had  fashioned  for  the  pur- 
pose.    Not  a  word  was  spoken,  as  assiduously  they  labored  on. 


94  EAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

The  earth,  as  fast  as  removed,  was  carefully  piled  together, 
to  be  placed  in  tiieir  liats  and  pockets  when  the  night's  work 
was  over.  It  was  a  tedious  process,  but  the  three  prisoners 
applied  themselves  like  men  determined  to  conquer. 

The  ench>sure,  embracing  several  acres  of  ground,  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  liigli,  wooden  fence,  on  top  of  which  were  placed 
planks,  at  regular  intervals,  where  the  guard  kept  watch,  so  as 
to  have  a  view  without,  as  well  as  within.  As  with  bated  breath 
the  three  young  men  worked  on,  the  heavy  tramp  of  the  senti- 
nel overhead  keeping  his  lonely  watch  was  distinctly  heard.  At 
first  his  marked  footstep  struck  terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  mid- 
night workmen  ;  but  as  hour  after  hour  they  toiled  on,  it  became 
familiar  music,  and  it  was  only  its  cessation  that  awoke  fore- 
bod  in.gs. 

The  night  was  starless,  which  greatly  favored  their  purpose,  as 
it  shielded  them  from  discovery  on  every  hand. 

Hour  after  hour  they  toiled  on,  never  for  a  moment  pausing  in 
their  undertaking.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  the  first 
faint  beams  of  the  rising  morn,  struggling  through  the  rifted 
clouds,  began  to  light  up  tlie  dark  landscape,  they  carefully 
gathered  ui)  the  new  earth,  filled  their  hats,  pockets,  shoes,  socks, 
etc.,  threw  the  heap  of  soiled  clothing  over  the  opening,  and 
stealthily  crept  away  and  secreted  themselves  until  morning. 

Finding  their  weight  of  dirt  burdensome,  they  deposited  it  under 
some  loose  planks  in  their  sleeping-room. 

Early  application  was  made  for  the  new  outfits  that  had  been 
selected  the  previous  evening.  They  were  furnished  during  the 
afternoon.  Immediately  the  old  garments  were  doflfed  in  favor  of 
their  successful  rivals.  The  remaining  hours  of  the  day  were  spent 
in  sleep. 

It  is  ten  o'clock  at  night.  Most  of  the  prisoners  have  retired 
to  rest — some  on  the  floor  of  their  rude  plank  house;  others,  pre- 
ferring the  open  air  to  the  noisome  rooms,  have  thrown  them- 
selves on  th>e  ground,  with  no  covering  save  a  blanket.  The  sen- 
tries are  on  duty.  No  sound  is  heard  but  the  dead  monotone  of 
their  heavy  tramp.  The  stars  are  out  to-night,  but  their  radiance, 
Boft  and  mild,  throws  but  a  dreamy  light  over  the  scene. 

Noiselessly  the  prisoners  arise  from  their  pallets.  Not  a  word 
is  spoken  as  they  pass  on  among  tlieir  sleepy  companions.  They 
gain  the  open  air,  and  pause  to  look  about  them  that  they  may  be 
assured  of  their  safety.  Charley  ventures  first,  the  two  follow, 
each  several  paces  behind    the  other,   so    that   if  one   shall    be 


OF    MOliGAN    AND    llIS    MKN.  \)o 

discovered  it  may  not  involve  liis  companions.  Breathlessly 
they  steal  along  like  shadows  iu  the  faint  starlight.  Charky 
is  within  a  few  paces  of  the  outlet.  The  sentinel  halts  in 
his  round  and  pauses  to  listen.  Tiie  prisoner  crouches  to  tlie 
ground,  and  screens  himself  in  the  dark  shadow  of  a  house.  His 
comrades  mark  his  movement  and  follow  his  example. 

A  moment  more  the  sentry,  reassured,  resumes  liis  round. 
Charley  glides  back  to  where  his  friends  are  in  their  hiding-places, 
whispers  to  them  the  incident  and  his  fears.  Tiie  tiiree  crouch 
together  near  the  house,  and  in  low  tones  canvass  the  prospect  he- 
fore  them.  It  is  at  length  decided  to  remain  in  their  present 
position  until  the  guard,  weary  with  watching,  shall  slumber  at 
his  post. 

Eleven  o'clock.  They  rise  and  stealthily  approach  the  scene  of 
their  last  night's  labors.  The  sentinel  no  longer  treads  his  weary 
beat;  his  eyes  have  become  heavy  with  his  night-watching,  and 
lie  leans  upon  his  gun.  Now  is  their  time  for  action.  In  one 
hour,  and  the  guard  will  be  relieved.  Before  that  time  their  work 
must  be  accom[)lished,  if  at  all. 

The  prisoners  gain  the  spot,  throw  aside  the  heap  of  clothing, 
and  ap|)ly  themselves  to  the  removal  of  the  earth  that  intervenes 
between  them  and  the  world  without.  Tiiey  work  with  silent 
desperation.  A  half  hour  more  and  the  ta^k  is  accomplisiied. 
Who  shall  venture  tirst  ?  The  moments  flee — there  is  no  time  f»>r 
parley. 

John  shall  lead,  as  he  is  smallest.  With  difficulty  he  makes 
his  way  through.  But  he  is  at  last  successful,  and  stands  out- 
side the  prison  walls.  The  two  within  enlarge  the  opening  with 
their  sharp  sticks.  A  few  moments  more,  and  they  are  beside 
their  comrade.  Novel  position — they  can  scarcely  realize  it. 
Once  more  at  liberty,  beyond  the  pale  of  that  high  frowning 
wall,  which,  for  two  long  weary  months  has  shut  them  in  from 
freedom. 

They  pause  a  moment  to  assure  themselves  that  they  are  not 
discovered.  All  is  unbroken  stillness.  The  sentinel  sleeps  on. 
Thank  G«)fl,  they  are  free ! 

'•  Come,  boys,  profound  silence,  as  you  value  your  lives.  Follow 
me,"  and  Charley  leads  the  way  thnnigh  the  buildings  without. 
They  gain  the  open  ground,  and  set  out  iu  the  direction  of  the 
railroad. 


96  EAmS   AND   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    MEETING HOME   VISIT. 

Rapidly  as  they  could,  and  avoiding  the  city,  the  tliree  soldiers 
made  their  onward  way.  A  few  miles  passed,  and  they  had 
reached  the  road.  Following  its  track,  they  proceeded  several 
miles  at  a  quick  pace,  when,  feeling  that  they  were  fully  beyond 
the  reach  of  danger,  as  their  escape  could  not  be  discovered  before 
the  morning,  they  halted  to  rest.  Hungry  and  weary  were  they, 
but  they  had  nothing  to  eat,  nor  could  they  spare  time  to  sleep. 

''  We  must  reach  our  destination  before  morning,  boys.  There 
may  be  Abolition  enemies  in  the  neighborhood,  wlio  would  cer- 
tainly inform  against  us,  if  they  knew  we  were  there,  and  cause 
our  arrest." 

"And  then  the  girls  are  anxiously  looking  for  us  now, 
Cliarley,"  added  John.  "And  I  fancy  we  will  not  be  averse  to 
meeting  them.  We  promised  them,  if  we  could  get  out,  we  would 
reach  your  cousins  before  morning.  How  happy  they  will  be 
when  they  see  we  are  safe  !" 

After  resting  themselves  a  while  they  resumed  their  journey, 
beguiling  the  long  dark  hours  with  bright  plans  for  the  future. 

"  We  talk,  boys,  as  if  we  were  surely  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
lion's  paw.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  see  how  we  are  to  get  from 
here  to  Louisville,  and  from  there  to  our  army,"  said  Bob,  whose 
usually  hopeful  nature  seemed  to  have  yielded  to  a  certain  degree 
of  timidity,  which  prevented  him  from  indulging  in  any  bright 
anticipations. 

"Oh,  if  we  can  but  reach  the  city.  Bob,  I  do  not  fear  beyond 
that.  All  southern  Kentucky  is  right,  and  every  man  we  meet 
will  befriend  us.  We  will  have  to  trust  ourselves  to  the  ingenuity 
of  the  girls  to  provide  for  our  safety  to  Louisville.  I  am  sure 
they  can  manage  the  case  for  us.     Don't  you  think  so,  Charley  ?" 

"  I  am  confident  of  it,  John.  I  would  not  hesitate  for  a  moment 
to  trust  them  for  a  release  from  Fort  Lafayette  itself.  Their  visit 
to  us  proves  them  equal  to  any  emergency.     It  was  a  novel  affair, 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  97 

really.  Who  wonld  have  tliought  that  those  two  demure-looking 
nuns,  with  their  baskets  of  tracts,  were  our  merry,  timid  sisters, 
come  to  plau  our  escape  from  prison  ?  If  I  were  a  writer  I'd  im- 
mortalize these  heroines." 

''  Your  sisters  deserve  immortality  and  fame,  boys.  I  do  believe 
we  should  now  and  forever  have  been  in  tliat  miserable  place  if 
they  had  not  encouraged  us  in  our  undertaking." 

''  You  are  right,  Bob.  And  yet,  what  an  easy  matter  it  was  af- 
ter all!" 

'^  And  how  sad  a  matter  it  would  have  been,  Charley,  if  we  had 
been  discovered  !  The  fates  were  propitious,  and  the  Dutchman 
was  sleepy,  so  we  made  our  way  out ;  and  now  we  shall  be  bre- 
veted among  our  friends  for  gallant  conduct  and  heroic  daring, 
when  really  I  do  not  believe  our  emotions  ever  rose  a  whit  above 
selfishness."  ' 

The  three  indulged  in  a  hearty  laugh  over  their  success,  and 
humming  a  verse  or  two  of  Dixie,  they  pursued  their  way  cheeri- 
ly on. 

"Ihave  been  thinking,  boys,"  said  John,  breaking  the  silence, 
"  that  if  we  could  ])rocure  a  genteel  coat  and  hat  each,  we  might 
take  the  cars  to-morrow  for  Cincinnati,  and  go  from  there  to  Lou- 
isville by  boat.  Wouldn't  it  be  pleasant  once  more  to  act  the  gen- 
tleman and  be  in  society?" 

"  You  are  right,  John.  It  would  be  deliglitful,  indeed,  to  see 
ourselves  acknowledged  gentlemen,  we  have  so  long  been  treated 
as  brutes.  But  getting  the  clothes  is  the  rub.  We  are  gentlemen 
now,  forsooth,  but  unfortunately  minus  the  cash  ;  and  how  to  sup- 
ply this  very  sad  need,  I  must  acknowledge  myself  wholly  inade- 
quate to  suggest.     Can  you  give  me  any  light,  boys?" 

*'  Oh,  leave  that  to  the  girls.  Bob ;  they  will  meet  the  case.  I 
am  sure  they  have  discussed  every  possible  plan,  and  I'll  venture 
they  have  already  selected  the  one  most  likely  to  succeed." 

The  faint  gleams  of  morning  were  just  beginning  to  tinge  the 
eastern  sky.  The  pedestrians,  weary  and  worn,  were  looking  out 
with  longing  hearts  for  their  destination, 

"That  must  be  the  house,  boys,  there  to  the  left.  Look!  don't 
you  see  the  light  in  the  front  windows?  That  was  the  signal  the 
girls  agreed  upon,  and  surely  we  have  come  fifteen  miles  since  we 
struck  the  railroad." 

Charley  was  right  That  was  the  house,  and  the  two  sisters, 
with  Cousin  Sam  and  his  wife,  were  in  tiie  parlor  awaiting  them. 

Joyous  was  the  meeting  between  the  young  girls  and  the  «o- 

5 


98  EAIDS    AND    r.OMAXCE 

caped  prisoners.  Very  little  like  nuns  did  the  two  glad  young 
creatures  look  as  they  welcomed  their  brothers  and  their  friend 
to  liberty.  A  lunch  had  been  prepared  by  the  kind  hostess,  and 
never  was  food  more  enjoyed  than  by  these  three  half-starved 
men.  It  had  been  many  a  month  since  they  had  enjoyed  the  lux- 
ury of  a  private  table,  and  they  declared  that,  in  honor  to  their 
hostess  and  their  own  appetites,  they  must  make  amends  for  past 
neglect. 

It  was  very  soon  determined — for  no  time  could  be  lost — that 
Charley,  with  the  addition  of  a  coat  and  hat  to  his  toilet,  should 
accompany  the  young  ladies  to  Louisville,  while  his  companions, 
under  such  directions  as  Mr.  Lightfoot  could  give  them,  should 
make  their  way  on  foot  to  Cincinnati ;  there  cross  the  Ohio  river 
into  Boone  county,  where  Bob  had  friends,  who  would  provide 
them  safe  conduct  to  the  city.  Accordingly,  the  morning  found 
the  two  young  ladies,  with  their  escort,  looking  quite  a  la  mode^ 
seated  in  the  cars  bound  for  Cincinnati.  The  following  night  they 
were  safely  landed  at  Louisville.  Here,  to  avoid  any  possibility 
of  exposure,  a  hack  was  taken,  and  at  that  late  hour  the  party 
drove  out  to  Mr.  R.'s. 

Words  are  powerless  to  express  the  joy  in  the  homestead  when 
Charley  was  welcomed  back  to  its  affection  and  comforts.  The 
mother's  heart  overflowed  with  tenderness  as  she  pressed  him  to 
her  bosom,  while  great  tears  of  joy  streamed  down  her  face  ;  and 
the  father's  soul  swelled  high  with  grateful  pride  as  he  clasped 
his  noble  boy  in  his  arms,  while  the  sisters  and  brother  heaped 
upon  him  affectionate  caresses,  and  were  never  weary  of  lingering 
near  him  to  listen  to  the  recital  of  his  varied  adventures.  And 
our  young  hero,  amid  the  happiness  which  surrounded  him,  forgot 
for  the  time  the  trials  and  sufferings  of  the  past  two  months. 
Mary  remained  with  the  family  to  await  the  arrival  of  her  brother, 
and  her  presence  was  to  Charley  as  that  of  an  angel  visitant. 
Vows  of  love,  long  ago  given,  were  renewed,  to  be  consummated 
when  independence  and  peace  should  bless  the  Southern  Confed- 
eracy. There  was  but  one  shadow  resting  over  the  sunny  scene. 
It  was  the  sad  thought,  that  hid  itself  away  in  the  bosom  of  each, 
that  soon — ah !  too  soon — must  come  the  bitter 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 


THE    PEDESTRIANS. 


Beneath  the  old  oak-tree,  whose  bursting  buds  were  unfolding 
tender  leaves  of  green,  sat  Mary  and  Charley.  It  was  the  last 
evening  of  his  stay  at  home.  To-raorrow,  ere  the  sun  should  be- 
gin its  daily  circuity  he  must  bid  farewell  to  loved  ones,  and  go  to 
seek  a  life  of  exile  and  danger. 

The  evening  sun,  declining  low  in  the  west,  threw  its  golden  glo- 
ry in  long  lines  of  living  light  back  upon  the  earth,  now  springing 
into  life  and  beauty.  Fleecy  clouds  of  white  floated  lazily  through 
the  azure  heavens,  catching  upon  their  western  margins  the  radi- 
ant hues  of  the  departing  sun;  and  as  the  eye  looked  up  into  the 
rault  above,  the  soul  could  fancy  itself  gazing  up— up  through  the 
4lue  empyrean— beyond  sun  and  moon  and  remotest  star— into 
the  glorious  splendor  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  whose  sapphirine 
beauties  beamed  from  out  their  far-otf  heavenly  home  down  upon 
the  emerald  earth.  The  evening  wind  swept  gently  by,  kissing 
the  grass-blades  and  the  tender  leaflets,  and  bearing  the  sweet 
breath  of  the  lovely  violet  that  nestled  in  its  modest  loneliness 
beside  the  field  fence-row  and  at  the  foot  of  the  giant  forest-tree. 

Before  them  lay  the  city,  its  distant  spires  gleaming  in  the  gor- 
geous rays  of  the  setting  sun,  its  busy  hum  falling  on  the  listening 
ear  like  the  dull  monotone  of  a  mournful  dirge.  Beyond  it  rose 
the  dark  blue  outline  of  the  hills  which  skirt  the  northern  kink  of 
the  beautiful  Ohio.  It  was  a  charming  scene.  One  that  might 
.invite  the  pencil  of  Claude  Lorraine.  The  lovers  had  long  been 
seated  at  the  foot  of  the  old  familiar  tree,  talking  over  their  pres- 
ent, past,  and  future,  and  sealing  in  words  of  love's  own  eloquent 
truth  the  vows  long  ago  pledged.  To  their  young  and  bursting 
hearts  the  coming  years  gave  promise  of  joy  and  gladness.  Yet 
over  that  radiant  pathway  there  could  be  discovered,  even  by  their 
inexperienced  vision,  the  shadow — aye,  the  gloom. 

Why  is  it  thus,   that  even  in  our  most  joyous  moments  the 
heart  Is  ever  aware  of  these  gathering  clouds,  which,  though  all 


100  RAIDS   A2xD   ROMANCE 

unseen,  throw  their  darkling  shade  over  our  life-path?  Is  it  that 
the  malediction  pronounced  upon  our  first  parents,  as  they  turned 
their  weeping  eyes  for  the  last  time  upon  their  lost  Eden,  and  bent 
their  burdened  step  out  into  the  unknown  waste  before  them,  has 
found  lodgment  in  our  fallen  nature — is  so  burnt  in  upon  the  strug- 
gling soul  of  man,  that  he  needs  not  bitter  experience  to  teach 
him  that  the  evil  ever  accompanies  the  good? 

As  the  dancing  wind  lifted  the  dark  auburn  ringlets  from  the 
passive  brow  of  Mary,  and  kissed  with  its  cooling  breath  her 
cheek,  flushing  with  love's  own  holy  kindlings,  Charley  gazed 
upon  her  with  silent  admiration.  Tears  started  to  his  eyes,  and 
his  oppressed  heart  sighed  heavily. 

Mary  turned  her  eyes  with  a  look  of  sorrow  upward  to  his. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh,  Charley  ?"  she  asked  in  tones  of  tender- 
ness. "  It  is  sad  to  part,  but  you  know  there  is  no  safety  here  for 
you.  They  would  take  you  from  us,  and  put  you  in  prison.  We 
must  bear  this  trial  as  heroically  as  we  can.  It  is  a  deep,  deep 
one,  but  there  is  no  other  hope." 

"I  feel  reproved,  Mary,"  he  replied,  "by  your  words  of  truth 
and  courage.  It  is  not  the  parting — and  God  knows  this  is  bitter 
enough — neither  is  it  dread  of  the  battle-field  that  thus  oppresses 
me;  but — "  and  he  paused,  as  if  unwilling  to  proceed;  "but — 
Mary,  pardon  me,  I  would  not  do  you  injustice — you  are  young, 
you  will  be  courted,  flattered,  tempted.  I  do  not  doubt  your 
truth— heaven  knows  I  do  not — and  yet — and  yet — I  cannot  tell 
why,  when  I  think  on  this,  my  brain  burns,  my  heart  throbs  with 
the  wildest  torment.  Young  Morton — Mary,  do  not,  I  beseech 
you,  trust  him.     He  is  made  to  win — and  to  deceive."  • 

"  Oh,  Charley,  Charley!  how  can  you  do  me  this  great  wrong? 
Why  do  you  doubt  me  ?  Have  you  not  proved  my  love,  and  found 
it  constant,  undying?  Am  I  younger  now  than  when  we  last 
parted  ?  Did  I  prove  faithless  ?  why  should  I  now  ?"  And  the 
young  girl  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"Oh,  forgive  me,  Mary,"  said  Charley,  tenderly,  gently  draw- 
ing her  towards  him,  and  kissing  her  burning  cheek.  "  I  do  not 
doubt  you,  and  yet — and  yet  my  heart  thrills  with  a  strange 
emotion,  when  I  think  of  the  future.  The  form  of  Morton  haunts 
me." 

"You  need  not  torture  yourself  with  apprehensions  of  him,' 
said  Mary,  looking  confidingly  up  into  her  lover's  face.  ''Our 
love  was  merely  the  fancy  of  our  childish  hearts,  a  wild,  foolish 
admiration  for  each  other,  because  we  called  each  other  sweet- 


OF    MORGAN    AN!)    HIS    MEN.  lUl 

hearts.  I  may  never  see  him  again.  You  know  he  is  s[)eaking  of 
joining  the  Federal  army." 

"  God  grant  he  may,"  was  Charley's  earnest  response. 

The  two  arose,,  and  walked  towards  the  house.  In  the  front 
yard  tliey  were  met  by  Lu,  whose  saddened  face  told  of  the  sorrow 
of  her  loving  heart. 

"  Mother  has  sent  me  to  seek  you  two.  She  wishes  Charley  to 
supervise  some  little  preparation  she  is  making  for  him." 

Charley,  resigning  Mary  to  his  sister,  who  conducted  her  to  the 
parlor,  passed  to  his  mother's  room  to  furnisli  any  necessary  sug- 
gestions. 

An  hour  later,  and  the  family,  grouped  in  the  parlor,  were  dis- 
cussing the  probability  of  the  recapture  of  the  two  young  sol- 
diers, when  a  loud  and  hasty  knock  at  the  door  interruj)ted  the 
conversation  for  a  moment.  The  servant  announced  two  gentlc^- 
raen.  They  were  shown  into  the  parlor.  Mr.  R.  rose,  bowed 
poHtely,  and  asked  them  forward  to  the  fire.  The  visitors  return- 
ed the  salutation  without  speaking,  and  advanced. 

"It  is  brother!"  exclaimed  Mar}^  springing  from  her  seat  on 
the  sofa,  and  tlirowing  her  arms  around  the  young  man's  neck. 

''  Why,  John  and  Bob,  can  it  be  you  ?"  said  Charley,  seizing  a 
hand  of  each.  ''We  were  just  speaking  of  you.  Didn't  know 
but  that  the  Yankees  had  you  again  ;  we  were  fearful  we  should 
never  see  you." 

The  two  heroes  were  heartily  welcomed  by  all,  and  many  were 
the  congratulations  offered  on  their  safe  arrival. 

*•  Well,  Jolin,  if  you  and  Mr.  Kted  had  sutYered  yourselves  to 
be  again  taken  by  the  Yankees,  we  should  have  left  you  to  your 
fate.  Wouldn't  we,  Lu  ?  Couldn't  turn  nun  again,  and  run  all 
the  risk  of  being  discovered  a  second  time  to  effect  an  escape  for 
you."  And  Mary  laughed  one  of  her  sweet,  merry  laughs,  while 
she  looked  archly  first  -at  her  brother,  and  then  at  her  friend, 
whose  cheeks  were  suffused  with  crimson  blushes, 

"Indeed,  Miss  Mary,  I  do  not  think  we  should  be  deserted  by 
the  ladies  in  our  misfortunes,"  replied  young  Reed.  '•  You  know 
it  would  be  no  fault,  of  ours,  if  we  were  even  now  within  the 
gloomy  walls  of  Camp  Chase,  instead  of  being  here  in  this  most 
delectable  society:  and  I  feel  assured  that  you  would  again,  in 
the  generousness  of  your  heart,  rush  to  our  rescue.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Charley  ?"  and  Reed  looked  quizzically  at  the  young 
hjver,  whose  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  bright,  smiling  face  of 
Mary, 


102  KAroS    AND    KOMANCE 

It  was  now  Charley's  time  to  blush,  which  he  did  deeply,  not- 
withstanding his  efforts  to  subdue  his  rising  emotion. 

"Indeed,  indeed,  Mr.  Reed,  you  are  mistaken  I"  exclaimed 
Mary,  animatedly,  at  the  same  time  manifesting  the  embarrass- 
ment which  seemed  to  be  becoming  general  among  the  young 
members  of  the  circle,  "I  advise  you,  gentlemen,  to  avoid,  at  all 
hazards,  another  introduction  to  a  Federal  prison,  lest,  unhappily, 
no  angels  of  mercy  should  come  to  your  rescue." 

"A  word  to  the  wise  man  is  sufficient,  Mr.  Reed,"  interposed 
Lu,  pleasantly,  who  had  been  silently  listening  to  tlie  badinage. 
"  I  am  sure  you  will  never  again  thus  test  our  courage  and  kind- 


"But  tell  us,  young  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  R.,  who  was  impa- 
tient to  hear  the  young  men's  story,  "how  you  succeeded  in  get- 
ting through  to  Kentucky.  We  have  been  in  a  most  anxious 
state  of  mind,  with  regard  to  your  welfare.  I  suppose  you  have 
had  some  adventures  by  the  way — perhaps  some  narrow  escapes 
from  the  Yankees." 

"  "We  feared  that  they  had  caught  you,"  said  Mrs.  R.,  her  kind, 
motherly  face  speaking  more  than  her  words  the  interest  of  her 
heart.  "And  Charley  had  decided  to  leave  to-morrow,  lest  he 
should  share  the  same  fate." 

"  How  do  you  go,  Charley?"  asked  young  Lawrence.  "I  sup- 
pose you  have  some  plan  marked  out  for  getting  through  ?" 

"None,  John;  I  must 'trust  to  my  wits.  Several  friends  have 
suggested  to  me  methods,  but  all  of  them  are  alike  full  of  risk. 
I  think  I  know  enough  of  the  country  through  which  I  am  to 
pass,  and  enough  of  Yankee  character,  to  make  good  my  way  to 
Colonel  Morgan." 

"Ah,  you  intend  to  join  Morgan,  do  you?  John,  that  will  be 
the  idea  for  us.  I  am  heartily  tired  of  infantry  life.  And,  more- 
over, we  need  the  exercise  and  dash  of  cavalry-men  to  restore  us 
to  our  former  vigor.  Do  we  not,  young  ladies  ?"  said  Reed,  with 
a  polite  bow  to  his  fair  listeners. 

"Most  assuredly,"  they  both  replied.  "Life  with  Morgan  for 
health  and  fame." 

"  But  how  do  you  propose  to  get  through,  gentlemen  ?"  asked 
Charley.  "Now  that  you  are  so  experienced  in  eluding  the  vigi- 
lance of  the  foe,  doubtless,  you  can  aid  me  on  my  way." 

"  We  go  through  like  gentlemen,  Charley,"  responded  young 
Reed,  laughing.  "Do  you  not  think  we  are  entitled  to  this  privi- 
lege,  in  virtue  of  these  handsome  new  suits  ?"  he  added,  at  the 


OF   MUKGAN   AXD   HIS   MEN.  103 

same  time  rising  fri»in  his  chiiir,  and  displ.-iyiiig  his  finished  suit  of 
bhick  clothes. 

"Undoubtedly,  you  deserve  all  the  privileges  due  to  gentle- 
men," responded  Charley,  looking  somewhat  bewildered  at  young 
Reed's  manner  and  remark,  ''but  I  fear  me  you  will  find  your  new- 
suit  of  black  but  a  poor  safeguard  against  Yankee  watchfulness 
and  hate." 

"Oh,  my  friend,  we  by  no  means  depend  on  our  attire  fon||(iss- 
port  through  tiie  lines ;  only  look  to  it  to  secure  us  the  civilities  by 
the  way  due  to  Kentucky  gentlemen.  We  take  the  boat  to-mor- 
row or  next  day,  provided  these  officials  do  not  have  us  in  the 
military  prison  before  then,  and  shall  depend  on  our  permits  to 
secure  us  safe  transit  to  Dixie." 

"  Permits,  Bob  ;  what  do  you  mean  ?"  and  Charley's  look  of 
wonder  and  perplexity  increased. 

'•Oh,  we  go  out  as  cotton  agents,  duly  authorized.  Here,  ex- 
amine our  papers,  and  see  if  it  is  not  so,"  and  Reed  took  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  to  Charley  some  papers,  which  the  latter 
took  and  examined  carefully  ;  then,  with  an  expression  of  mingled 
surprise  and  doubt,  gazed  up  into  the  face  of  his  facetious  friend, 
who,  with  young  Lawrence,  was  highly  enjoying  Charley's  entan- 
glement. This  last  remark  of  Reed's  had  aroused  the  inquisitive- 
ness  of  every  one  present,  and  a  look  of  curious  inquiry  rested  on 
each  face. 

Charley  opened  the  permits,  and  read  thera  a  second  time. 

'•  Boys,  are  these  genuine  ?"  he  asked,  after  duly  scrutinizing 
them  again  and  again.  "  Or  do  you  design  to  attempt  to  out- 
Herod  Herod?" 

''Genuine!  of  course,"  replied  Reed,  with  an  assumed  air  of 
insulted  dignity,  at  this  insinuation  against  his  honor,  and  that  of 
his  friend.     "  Do  you  not  see  they  are  duly  signed  ?" 

"  But,  if  genuine,  how  did  you  obtain  them  ?  Certainly,  you 
must  have  in  some  way  imposed  on  somebody." 

"  Why,  Charley,  my  friend,  have  not  James  Safl:brd,  Esq.,  and 
John  Livingston,  ditto,  true  and  loyal  men,  who  have  endured 
long  and  dreary  exile  from  home  and  friends  beloved,  because  of 
theii^ardent  devotion  to  this  glorious  '  Union,'  'the  dear  old  flag,' 
and  '  the  best  government  in  the  world,'  have  not  these  patricfts, 
so  distinguished  for  their  sufferings,  a  right  to  the  protection  of 
that  government,  and  a  small  share  of  its  profits  ?" 

This  pseudo-panegyric  on  his  own  patriotism  was  delivered  in 
such  a  farcical  manner,  that  the  whole  company  burst  into  laugh- 


104  KAIDS   A2fD   EOMAlsXE 

ter.  Charley  shared  the  merriment,  but  with  less  zest  than  the 
others. 

"Well,  boys,"  said  he,  ''you  puzzle  me  more  and  more." 

"Do  tell  us  the  meaning  of  these  oflBcial  documents,  and  explain 
to  us  how  they  were  procured." 

"Oh,  do  tell  us  the  whole  story,"  cried  out  several  voice?.  "We 
would  hear  all  your  adventures  through  Ohio  and  Kentucky  to 
Louisville." 

"  Our  hegira  from  Camp  Chase  was  attended  by  no  incident3 
worth  the  mention  until  we  came  to  Cincinnati.  We  traveled  on 
like  two  common  workmen,  avoiding  every  thing  that  looked  sus- 
picious, stopping  at  night  wherever  darkness  overtook  us,  behaving 
very  much  like  poor  men  all  unused  to  society — that  is,  playing 
mum  on  all  subjects  until  we  ascertained  the  sentiments  of  our 
host ;  if  adverse  to  ours,  we  declared  lustily  in  favor  of  the  glorious 
Union,  tiraded  aguinst  the  rebels,  and  after  that  played  mum  fur 
the  remainder  of  the  night. 

"If,  however,  we  discovered  that  we  were  in  congenial  society, 
and  this  was  our  good  fortune  two  nights  out  of  four,  we  gave 
full  rein  to  our  powers  of  entertainment,  related  all  our  adventures, 
answered  the  many  hundred  questions  propounded  to  us  by  our 
eager  listeners,  and  in  our  turn  gained  all  the  intelligence  we  could 
about  the  Yankees  and  their  movements. 

"Tuesday  night,  weary  and  worn  with  our  tramp,  we  halted 
with  an  old  avaricious  Jew,  just  outside  Cincinnati.  We  told  him 
"we  were  from  Tennessee.  He  immediately  asked  if  we  knew  any 
thing  about  the  cotton  section.  John  caught  his  idea  in  a  mo- 
ment, and,  determining  to  make  capital  out  of  it,  readily  answered 
tliat  we  were  well  acquainted  with  all  the  cotton  region  of  that 
State;  that  our  fathers  were  heavy  planters,  and  now  had  on 
hand  a  very  large  amount  of  that  very  desirable  article.  The  bait 
had  taken.  The  old  man's  eye  flashed  with  delight  under  this  in- 
tehigeuce,  and  he  hinted  his  desire  to  buy  cotton,  intimating  his 
fear  to  be  found  in  Tennessee,  lest  he  should  be  overtaken  by  the 
rebels.  We  cautiously  proposed  to  act  as  his  agents  should  he 
desire  it, 

"  His  keen  black  eve  twinkled  with  the  joy  that  filled  Ws  bosom, 
aftd  he  unhesitatingly  accepted  our  offer.  He  agreed  to  pay  us 
a  commission  on  delivery  of  the  cotton  at  Cincinnati.  We  ac- 
ceded to  this,  and  the  contract  was  immediately  drawn  and  duly 
signed. 

"  The  next  morning  he  took  us  to  headquarters  in  the  city,  pro- 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN. 


105 


cured  for  us  permits  and  seeing  we  were  in  rather  a  sorry  plight, 
opened  his  narrow  Jewish  heart  sutHciently  to  give  us  a  new  hat 
and  coat  each,  paid  our  passage  to  Louisville,  and  sent  us  out  on 
our  most  lucrative  agency.  And  here  we  are  to  prosecute  our  un- 
dertaking lii<e  gerr'emen  of  the  strictest  integrity  and  highest 
business  ability." 

'♦  Bravo  !"  exclaimed  one    and   all,  as  Bob  finished  his^story, 
"  you  deserve  a  medal  for  your  triumph." 
''  Or  to  be  bre vetted,"  added  Charley. 

"  So  you  see  our  stay  among  the  Hoosiers  has  rather  sharpened 
our  wits,  and  Bob  and  I  feel  that  no  emergency  can  arise  in  the 
future  that  will  seriously  trouble  us." 

"  And  you  leave  to-morrow,  do  you,  boys?"  asked  Mr.  R.  ''  1 
wish  Charley  would  go  with  you.  I  do  not  at  all  like  the  thought 
of  his  setting  out  alone  to  travel  so  far  through  the  enemy's 
territory." 

'^Yes,  sir,"  responded  young  Lawrence;  "we  shall  take  the 
first  Cincinnati  boat.  This  will  obviate  the  necessity  of  renewing 
our  permits.  Charley,"  said  he,  turning  and  addressing  his 
young  friend,  "cannot  we  devise  some  plan  that  will  insure  your 
safety  with  us  ?" 

"  I  fear  not,  John.  We  should  have  to  practice  so  much  de- 
ception, and  I  should  be  so  much  more  public  than  in  a  land  trip, 
I  think  I  prefer  the  risks  of  the  latter.  I  shall  leave  very  early 
to-morrow  morning,  and  hope  soon  to  join  you  and  Bob  in  Dixie 
land,  where,  under  the  victorious  banner  of  Colonel  Morgan,  we 
shall'  avenge  our  wrongs  and  the  wrongs  of  the  noble  fellows  who 
yet  pine  amid  the  cruelty  of  Camp  Chase." 

Sujjper  was  announced,  after  wliicli  the  family  reassembled  in 
the  parlor,  where  music  and  cheerful  conversation  made  pleasant 
the  fast  fleeting  hours.  Southern  songs  were  sung  by  the  young 
people,  in  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  joined  with  that  zest  which  told, 
in  word  and  look,  their  devotion  to  the  cause  to  which  they  had 
Yielded  up  their  son.  The  hours  tripped  by  with  rosy  feet.  ^  Yet 
there  were  moments  when  the  heart,  leaving  behind  the  delights 
of  the  present,  looked  out  with  trembling  on  the  sad  parting  of  the 


morrow. 


The  hour  came  for  the  young  men  to  leave,  as  it  was  necessary 

for  them  to  be  in  the  city,  that  they  might  avail  themselves  of  the 

'first  Cincinnati  packet.     With  renewed  pledges  of  friendship  and 

mutual  wishes  for  safety  and  success,  the  three  young  men  bade 

each  other  adieu. 

5* 


106  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 


• 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    NASHVILLE    PENITENTIARY. 


The  morning  came.  Charley  was  ready  to  set  out  on  his  peril- 
ous journey.  ^Ve  need  not  describe  the  parting.  Ah,  has  not  every 
homestead  throughout  the  land  witnessed  the  same  sad  scene  ? 
And  the  heart  has  but  to  recall  its  own  bitter  experience  to  realize 
the  gloom  of  that  darkened  household,  as  the  angel  of  grief  folded 
its  wing  over  each  stricken  bosom. 

We  would  not  invade  the  sacred  sorrow  of  the  young  loving 
heart  of  her  who  was  now  called  upon  to  yield  up  to  the  dread 
chances  of  war  that  heart's  idol.  It  were  sacrilegious  to  invade 
the  hallowed  temple  where,  mid  the  parity  of  such  deathless  aiFec- 
tion  and  the  clinging  memories  of  the  years  gone  by,  the  beloved 
image  sat  enshrined. 

Ah,  how  very  poor  is  all  language  to  express  the  keen  emotions 
■)f  joy  and  sorrow  that  the  human  heart  is  capable  of  experi- 
encing! Ko  analysis  can  do  justice  to  the  varied  shades  of  feeling 
that  move  its  inmost  springs,  and  full  often,  even  in  a  moment 
of  time,  give  rise  to  thoughts  and  en:iotions  that  influence  the  life 
throughout  all  coming  time. 

Circumstances  light  as  straws  are  levers  in  the  building  up  of 
character. 

Fired  with  a  loftier  devotion  to  the  cause  he  had  embraced, 
since  by  sore  experience  he  had  become  acquainted  with  the  in- 
famy and  injustice  of  those  who  opposed  it,  inured  to  deprivations 
and  sufferings,  with  a  score  of  deep  personal  wrongs  to  avenge, 
our  young  hero  left  home  a  second  time  to  engage  in  the  great 
struggle  a  wiser  and  a  more  determined  man. 

By  the  exercise  of  his  ingenuity  and  daring,  both  of  which  had 
greatly  developed  under  the  stern  teachings  of  the  last  eight 
months,  he  succeeded  in  reaching  Gallatin,  Tennessee.  From  here 
it  was  his  intention  to  proceed  to  the  vicinity  of  ISTashville,  hoping 
that,  as  Colonel  Morgan  was  frequently  dashing  around  in  the 
neigiiborhood  of  that  city,  he  should  be  able  to  join  his  command 
without  delay. 


OF   MORGAN   AXD    IIIS    MEN.  107 

Leaving  Gallatin,  he  crossed  the  Cumberland,  and  was  proceed- 
ing towards  Nashville,  when  one  morning  about  6  o'clock  he  was 
accosted  byH  squad  of  Lincolnites,  who  imperatively  bade  him 
halt.  His  astonishment  was  so  great  at  this  unexpected  meeting 
with  the  enemy,  that  for  the  moment  he  lost  his  self-possession, 
and  before  he  could  recover  his  equipoise,  he  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  six  burly  In<lianian8,  who,  seizing  his  bridal-Mij^nd 
presenting  their  pistols  to  his  breast,  claimed  him  as  their  |SBRier. 

Recovering  himself,  he  manifested  great  surprise  and  indigna- 
tion, protesting  against  their  act,  alleging  that  they  had  no  right 
to  arrest  him,  an  unarmed  citizen,  who  was  passing  through  the 
country  on  business  of  his  own. 

They  questioned  him  closely,  evidently  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
his  story,  and  his  answers,  ambiguous  and  indefinite  as  they  ne- 
cessarily were,  fixed  their  suspicions.  He  was  arrested,  sent  under 
guard  to  Nashville,  where,  refusing  to  take  the  oath,  he  was  com- 
mitted to  prison  as  a  spy.  And  thus  in  a  few  brief  hours  were  all 
liis  bright  expectations,  all  his  joyous  hopes,  dashed  as  by  the 
hand  of  some  pitiless  divinity,  and  he  whose  soul  had  panted  for 
the  contest  and  the  fray,  whose  thoughts  had  dwelt  but  upon 
glory  and  revenge,  found  himself  a  helpless,  hopeless  prisoner  in 
the  power  of  his  detested  foe. 

All,  how  bitter  were  his  reflections  as  he  lay  in  his  narrow  cell, 
isolated  from  the  world  without,  friendless,  devoid  of  hope !  De- 
spair came  to  be  a  guest  with  him,  overshadowing,  with  its  leaden 
wing,  both  present  and  future,  and  the  two  sat  down  together 
over  the  grave  of  buried  joy  and  blighted  hope,  to  mourn  uuavail- 
ingly. 

After  a  few  days  passed  in  this  deep  despondency,  our  young 
liero  rallied,  and,  with  that  desperation  that  impels  to  the  most 
daring  exertions,  he  roused  himself,  resolving  to  escape  or  perish 
in  the  attempt. 

He  soon  managed  through  another  prisoner,  a  young  Tennes- 
seean,  who  enjoyed  more  privileges  than  did  Charley,  to  make 
known  his  condition  to  some  Southern  gentleman  of  the  city,  who 
undertook  to  effect  his  release.  His  case  underwent  investigation ; 
nothing  could  be  substantiated  against  him,  and  he  was  off'ered 
liberty  on  condition  that  he  would  take  the  oath.  This  he  per- 
emptorily refused  to  do,  urging  that  they  liad  no  right  thus  to 
question  his  loyalty,  and,  uidess  they  could  satisfactorily  establish 
that  he  had  compromised  it,  it  was  an  insult  to  his  honor  to  re- 
quire him  to  take  any  oath. 


108  RAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 

This  course  of  reasoning  being  by  no  means  convincing  to  the 
obtuse  minds  of  his  judges,  he  was  remanded  to  prison. 

Loathsome,  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  portray,  was  the  cell 
allotted  to  him.  Filled  with  vermin  of  all  kinds,  with  a  negro  on 
one  side  and  a  criminal  on  the  other;  shut  out  from  the  light  of 
day,  damp  and  noisome,  it  would  have  been  cruelty  to  have  ira- 
nmraiifi  felon  of  the  most  atrocious  character  within  its  dreadful 
walli^  Added  to  this,  the  meagre  exercise  he  was  permitted  to 
take  was  insutficient  to  preserve  his  health,  and  his  food,  of  the 
coarsest  and  most  unwholesome  nature,  was  furnished  in  such 
scant  quantities,  as  scarcely  to  support  life.  All  he  had  undergone 
at  Camp  Chase  was  as  nothing  compared  to  his  present  tortures. 
He  soon  became  convinced  that  without  a  change  he  must  die — 
yet  he  would  not  take  the  oath. 

Charley  had  been  in  prison  about  a  week,  when  one  morning 
early  he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  a  noise  in  front  of  his  cell. 
Starting  to  his  feet,  he  peered  through  the  iron  bars  of  his  grate, 
to  endeavor  to  ascertain  the  cause. 

By  the  flickering  light  of  the  lamp,  he  saw  a  young  man  forced 
along  by  two  of  the  guard,  who  held  him  on  either  side.  He  was 
tall,  handsome,  and  wore  the  defiant  look  of  one  who  had  made 
up  his  mind  never  to  yield.  The  prisoner  was  dressed  in  citizen's 
garb,  but  his  sun-browned  brow  and  military  air  bespoke  him  a 
soldier. 

With  a  brutal  oath  he  was  rudely  thrust  by  the  coarse,  unfeel- 
ing men  into  the  second  cell  from  Charley. 

''"Who  can  this  be?"  soliloquized  Charley,  as  he  threw  himself 
back  upon  his  iron  bed,  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead, 
as  if  to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts.  "  He  cannot  be  a  convict? 
No,  no.  That  fine  face,  and  manly  form,  and  air  of  hauteur,  can 
belong  to  none  other  than  a  gentleman.  How  defiantly  he  scowl- 
ed on  the  guard  that  bore  him  along.  There  is  spirit  not  to  be 
subdued  in  that  breast.  The  true,  genuine  soul  that  defies  time 
and  circumstance,  and  acknowledges  no  conqueror  but  death,  I 
almost  fancy  I  have  seen  that  face  before,  and  that  proud  form 
looks  strangely  familiar.  He  must  be  a  Kentuckian — one  of  Mor- 
gan's men.  Looks  something  like  Colonel  Morgan  himself — so 
brave,  so  noble,  so  daring.  Can  it  be  he  ?  Oh,  no  ;  he  would  die 
first.  I  do  wish  I  knew  who  it  is.  I'll  make  his  acquaintance  the 
tirst  opportunity.  "Wonder  if  he  would  take  that  oath — that  tile^ 
detestable  oath  /  I'm  sure  he  will  not.  No  one  with  that  look 
would  ever  subrnft  to  such  degradation !     So  we  shall  be  fellow- 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  109 

prisoners  for  a  long  time.  Perhaps" — and  Charley  shuddered 
at  the  dark  tht)nght — "  [lerhaps  i'ov  life.  We  may  both  die  in  this 
horrid  place." 

Charley  made  his  plain  toilet  with  a  degree  of  animation  he  had 
never  before  felt  since  he  entered  that  dark  and  noisome  abode. 
While  he  was  thus  engaged,  a  strain  of  music  arrested  his  atten- 
tion, lie  pressed  his  ear  close  to  the  iron  bars  to  catch  the 
words — 

"  Awake  and  to  horse,  rny  brothers — 
Look  up  to  the  risincr  sun. 
And  ask  of  the  God  that  shines  there, 
If  deeds  like  these  shall  be  done?" 

He  listened.  The  thrilling  words  were  repeated.  The  voice 
was  clear  and  musical,  and,  although  somewhat  subdued,  the  ex- 
pression bespoke  the  strong,  deep  feeling  of  the  heart  that  gave 
utterance  to  the  stirring  words. 

'•  Hush  your  singing  there,  fellow,  and  behave  yourself,"  said 
the  guard,  in  a  coarse,  gruff  tone,  as  he  passed  by.  The  music 
ceased.  Charley  fancied  he  heard  a  suppressed  oath.  But  he  was 
mistaken.  The  dark  vow  of  vengeance  was  uttered  only  by  the 
bursting  heart.  It  needed  not  words  to  give  it  strength  of  pur- 
pose or  remembrance. 

*'  I  go  from  here  at  all  hazards.  I  go  to  be  avenged.  This  insult 
shall  be  atoned  for  by  blood." 

Thus  vowed  the  prisoner,  as,  with  fury-lit  eyes  and  elevated 
hands,  he  stood  beside  his  barred  door,  and  looked  upon  the  wretch 
who  had  insulted  him.  And  fearfully  has  that  vow  been  kept. 
Beside  the  low  Muskingum,  where  the  evening  winds  wail  through 
the  forest-trees  a  sad  requiem  for  the  slain,  in  the  desolate  cottage 
sits  the  lone  widow,  with  her  three  little  children,  mourning  over 
the  lost  husband.  She  knows  not  where  he  lies.  But  this  she 
has  heard,  "  He  was  killed  by  one  of  Morgan's  men." 


110  RAWS   AND  EOilANCE 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE    PRISON    CHAT. 


At  breakfast  the  two  prisoners  met.  Glances  were  exchanged. 
It  was  enough.  They  understood  each  other,  and  as  they  filed 
out,  Cliarley  touched  the  young  man  on  the  shoulder,  and  wliis- 
pered  "  Southern?" 

A  slight  nod  of  the  head,  and  a  smile  was  the  only  reph'. 

"Meet  me  in  tlie  courtyard,"  Charley  said,  in  an  undertone; 
"I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

It  was  several  days  before  the  proposed  interview  took  place, 
for  at  first  the  young  man  was  not  permitted  to  leave  his  cell,  ex- 
cept to  come  to  his  meals.  In  the  mean  time  Charley  had  learned, 
from  snatches  of  conversation  in  going  to  and  from  the  table, 
that  the. prisoner  was  one  of  Morgan's  men,  caught  within  the 
Federal  lines.  But  as  he  was  in  civilian's  garb  when  arrested, 
and  not  known  to  any  one  in  Nashville,  it  was  not  likely  his 
punishment  would  be  any  thing  more  than  imprisonment. 

At  length,  after  a  week's  close  confinement,  the  young  man  was 
permitted  to  walk  in  the  open  court  with  the  other  political  pris- 
oners. 

The  first  opportunity  that  offered  for  conversation  was  eagerly 
seized  upon  by  the  two  Kentuckians,  to  inquire  into  the  past  his- 
tory of  each  other,  and  lay  plans  for  future  action. 

"  I  came  out  from  Kentucky  last  September  with  Colonel  Mor- 
gan, and  have  been  with  him  since  until  a  few  weeks  ago,"  replied 
the  young  man  to  Charley's  interrogatory. 

"  Then  we  have  met  before.  I,  too,  was  in  'Camp  Secret,'  and 
came  through  witli  that  fearful  expedition  to  Green  River.  There 
I  joined  Colonel  Hanson's  regiment — " 

"And  were  taken  prisoner  at  Donelson?"  interrupted  the  lis- 
tener, eagerly. 

"Yes,  and  sent  with  others  to  Camp  Chase." 

"And  escaped  from  prison  ?     How  did  you  succeed  in  doing  it, 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  Ill 

and  how  came  you  iiere  f'  ^l^ked  the  yuiiiig  iiuui,  hurriedly,  his 
face  hrightening  with  the  iuterest  he  felt  in  the  fate  of  his  new 
acquaintance. 

Charley  briefly  and  graphically  recounted  his  story.  His  com- 
panion listened  with  breatidess  attention. 

"Quite  an  adventure,  indeed.  You  are  already  a  hero.  How 
unfortunate  that  after  all  your  trials,  and  your  successful  escape, 
you  siiould  again  be  taken  and  lodged  in  this  disgusting  place, 
lietter  by  far  be  in  Camp  Chase  than  in  this  miserable  place. 
Surely  no  other  prison-hous-e  in  all  the  range  of  Yankeedom  caa 
be  as  horrid  as  this  !" 

''  That  is  wretched  enough,  I  as?ure  you,  but  this  is  far  worse. 
I)Ut  I  find  the  same  brutality  and  coarseness  ciiaracterize  their 
otticers  and  guard  everywhere;  in  this  respect  I  discover  no  dif- 
ference." 

"Can  this  be  so?  I  had  supposed  that  on  their  own  soil,  re- 
moved from  any  apprehension  of  danger,  and  free  from  the  pro- 
voking influences  of  daily  contact  with  Southern  people,  they 
would  manifest  some  degree  of  humanity.  I  know  they  are  every- 
where cold,  heartless,  and  overbearing;  but  I  thought  they  must 
be  more  brutal  here  than  there." 

"  No  better  there  than  here.  Vulgarity,  coarseness,  I  might 
say  fiendishness,  are  each  day  experienced  by  the  prisoners  at 
Camp  Chase,  and  there  remains  to  them  no  redress.  I  will  give 
you  an  illustration  of  their  savage  cruelty  in  one  of  the  most 
heartless  incidents  that  ever  blackened  the  record  of  any  people, 
however  savage.     It  took  place  while  I  was  a  prisoner  there. 

"A  poor  man  was  arrested  in  We^itern  Virginia  for  alleged  dis- 
loyalty. As  usual,  no  charge  was  brought  against  him,  save  this 
general  one.  He  was  told  that  he  must  go  to  prison  with  the 
guard.  '  To  what  prison  ?'  he  asked.  '  No  matter  to  what  prison,' 
they  answered  with  an  oath.  'You  must  go  with  us,  and  that 
right  away.  We  have  no  time  to  wait.'  It  was  night.  The 
wretched  man  knew  not  what  to  do,  for  in  the  low  bed  beside  him 
slept  his  three  motherless  children.  He  felt  he  must  obey  the 
inhuman  order,  but  how  could  he  leave  his  little  ones  without 
protection,  without  any  one  to  care  for  them  ?  The  eldest  was 
nine,  the  youngest  only  three  years  old.  An  old  negro  woman, 
who  attended  to  the  children,  was  the  only  being  about  the  house, 
and  she  was  no  safeguard  against  the  brutal  soldiery  that  infested 
the  neighborhood.  In  his  great  extremity,  not  knowing  what  else 
to  do,  the  wretched  father  besought  his  captors  to  allow  his  chil- 


112  EAIDS    AND   KOilANCE 

dren  to  go  with  him  to  prison.  The  request,  strange  to  say,  was 
granted.  The  four  were  brought  to  Camp  Chase.  The  poor  man 
was  placed  in  strict  confinement;  his  children  were  imprisoned  in 
another  part  of  the  ground.  They  were  never  permitted  to  see 
each  other.  With  the  most  heart-rending  entreaties  the  stricken 
father  implored  to  see  his  children — only  once.  The  cliildren  wept 
and  prayed  to  see  the  father.  Day  after  day,  week  after  week, 
were  entreaties,  groans,  and  cries  poured  into  the  deaf  ear  of  the 
hellish  guard.  But  all  was  useless.  Their  hearts  were  harder 
than  the  adamant — the  permission  was  never  granted. 

"  TlTe  health  of  the  heart-broken  man  gave  way  under  his  heavy 
grief  and  close  confinement.  He  languished  on  amid  his  dark  sor- 
rows, and  then  died.  In  his  last  moments  he  prayed,  entreated, 
besought  them  just  to  let  him  see  his  children  once,  that  he  might 
bless  them  before  he  closed  his  eyes  in  death.  He  was  told  his 
children  were  doing  very  well,  but  he  could  not  see  them. 

"•And  thus,  calling  for  'his  children,'  his  'poor  little  children,' 
his  'motherless  children,'  the  agonized  spirit  of  that  poor  out- 
raged father  went  up  with  its  tale  of  deep,  damning  wrong  before 
the  tribunal  of  the  Lord  Jehovah." 

The  young  man  grew  pale  as  he  listened.  "My  God !"  exclaim- 
ed he,  springing  to  his  feet  and  clenching  his  hands,  as  if  in  a 
paroxysm,  "  was  there  ever,  ever  such  brutality,  such  dark,  hell- 
ish cruelty.  God  in  heaven  will  avenge  that  injured  man.  T 
swear  by  all  that's  holy,  that  if  ever  again  I  meet  these  fiends  on 
the  battle-field,  the  thoughts  of  that  poor  man's  wrongs  shall  move 
my  heart  to  do,  and  dare,  and  die,  that  he  and  his  helpless  children 
may  be  avenged." 

"  And  I  have  seen  the  guard  shoot  a  man  dead  merely  because 
in  play  he  had  accidentally  stepped  beyond  the  limits  assigned 
him.  And  again,  another  was  shot  by  a  vile  Dutchman  because 
he  carelessly  threw  his  arm  across  the  wretch's  path." 

"And  what,  sir,  have  we  to  hope  from  such  a  people?"  exclaim- 
ed the  young  man,  clenching  his  teeth,  while  his  face  assumed  a 
look  of  desperate  revenge.  "Call  them  brothers,  friends?  They 
are  devils  incarnate — fiends  from  the  lowest  pit.  Never,  never 
could  I  recognize  them  in  any  other  light  than  foes,  enemies  that 
must  be  defeated,  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Oh,  that  every 
Southern  n)an  could  hear  that  tale  of  cruelty,  that  it  might  nerve 
his  arm  in  the  day  of  conflict !  Blood  for  blood,  hfe  for  life !  They 
drive  us  to  it,  sir,  and  I  take  the  issue." 

The  young  man's  face  was  flushed  with  the  wildest  excitement. 


OF    MOKGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  lib 

His  whole  fniuie  trembled — he  started  forward  as  if  to  meet  the 
d.i>tard  foe. 

For  several  minutes  not  a  word  was  spoken.  The  resolves  of 
that  fearful  moment  were  never  ft>rgotten.  ^ 

The  bell  rang  that  summoned  the  prisoners  to  their  wretched 
supper. 

In  a  few  days  the  two  met  again.  The  conversation  turned 
upon  the  feasibility  of  escape,  and  joining  Colonel  Morgan. 

'•I  have  heard  of  many  wonderful  feats  performed  by  Colonel 
Morgan  in  the  vicinity  of  this  place,"  said  Charley  to  his  new- 
formed  acquaintance,  as  the  two  seated  themselves  on  some  loose 
stones,  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  frowning  wall.  I  suppose  his 
daring  is  remarkable?" 

''There  is  not,  sir,  a  braver  or  more  resolute  man  living.  I 
have  been  with  him  in  most  of  his  adventures,  and  such  courage, 
combined  with  foresight  and  caution,  I  have  never  in  my  life 
witnessed.  On  one  occasion,  very  soon  after  the  Yankees  took 
])()ssession  of  this  place,  few,  about  thirty  in  number,  dressed  in 
Federal  uniform,  under  the  direction  of  Colonel  Morgan,  swept 
round  the  city,  and,  obtaining  a  good  position  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  halted  for  a  few  minutes  to  plan  an  attack.  Our  object 
was  to  set  fire  to  two  boats  which  were  above  the  fleet  in  the 
river,  and  send  them  enveloped  in  flames  to  communicate  the  fire 
to  the  others.  As  I  remarked,  we  halted  some  little  distance  out 
from  the  city.  Colonel  Morgan  then  dispatched  five  of  us  into 
town  to  fire  the  boats.  Uniformed  like  the  Yankees,  we  passed 
along  the  streets  unnoticed." 

"Did  you  do  this  during  the  day?"  asked  Charley,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  early  in  the  evening.  Following  Colonel  Mor- 
gan's instructions,  we  crossed  the  river  to  this  side,  the  boats  being 
at  the  main  landing,  walked  leisurely  through  the  streets,  en- 
countering everywhere  Yankee  soldiers  and  civilians,  gained  the 
y^oint  nearest  the  lower  boat,  which  stood  out  a  little  way  in  the 
river.  It  was  an  old  aff'air,  and  was  left  in  the  possessicm  of  negroes 
and  three  Irish  soldiers.  Securing  a  yawl  that  was  near,  we  put 
out  for  the  boat.  On  reaching  it,  young  Winfield,  from  Lexing- 
ton, took  command  of  tlie  arrangements.  We  boarded  the  boat, 
and  ordered  off  to  shore  the  three  Irish  soldiers  and  a  portion  of 
the  negroes,  with  instructions  that  they  should  be  landed  and 
the  yawl  brought  back  to  the  boat.  Winfield  ordered  every  man 
remaining  on  board  to  get  into  the  yawl.     He  then    proceeded 


114  RAIDS    A5D    ROMANCE 

alone  to  fire  ihe  boat  at  four  difterent  points.  This  done,  he  left 
the  vessel,  from  whicii  the  flumes  were  already  bursting,  and 
jumping  into  the  yawl,  commanded  the  boatmen,  at  the  peril  of 
their  lives,  to  row  to,  the  opposite  side.  Before  we  reached  the 
bank  the  boat,  which  was  now  slowly  floating  down  the  river,  was 
discovered  by  the  Yankees  to  be  on  fire.  Great  was  the  conster- 
nation in  their  ranks  when  this  became  known,  as  the  fleet  below 
contained  many  sick  soldiers.  We  reached  the  bank,  waved  our 
hats  at  the  afi'righted  Yankees  congregated  on  the  opposite  side, 
bade  them  adieu,  and,  finding  our  horses,  returned  safely  to  the 
command." 

"And  did  your  plan  succeed?  It  certainly  was  full  of  dar- 
ing." 

"  We  have  learned  from  the  Yankee  papers  that  the  boat  was 
arrested  in  its  downward  course  in  time  to  save  the  other  boats. 
What  damage  they  suftered  we  did  not  learn.  A  few  days  after 
this,  as  Colonel  Morgan  was  riding  in  advance  of  the  body  of  his 
men,  accompanied  by  only  two  others,  he  met  a  Yankee  colonel 
and  his  staff"  trotting  along  very  leisurely.  '  Halt,'  said  Mor- 
gan. 

"'I'll  be  d — d  if  I  do,'  was  the  reply;  'I  have  already  been 
halted  a  half  dozen  times  since  I  left  Xashville,  and  I'll  submit  to 
it  no  longer.     Who  are  you,  any  how  ?' 

'"Morgan  quickly  drew  out  his  pistol  and  presented  it.  'Mor- 
gan,' he  very  quietly  replied  to  the  Yankee's  interrogatory.  '  And 
you  are  my  prisoner.' 

"  The  Yankee  made  no  further  resistance.  He  and  his  escort, 
beside  a  considerable  force  which  followed  in  the  rear,  were  made 
prisoners  by  Morgan  and  his  men.  We  were  pursued  by  a  heavy 
Federal  force,  and  young  Winfield,  who  was  guiding  the  rear  de- 
tachment, after  having  two  horses  shot  under  him,  was  taken 
Drisoner.     The  remainder  escaped." 

"And  where  is  he  now  ?"  asked  Charley. 

"  In  Camp  Douglas.  He  was  for  a  long  time  confined  here,  but 
they  fearing  he  would  be  rescued  finally  sent  him  north. 

"  On  another  occasion,  about  forty  of  us  in  number,  headed  by 
Morgan,  dashed  in  upon  their  pickets  one  morning  early,  and  cap- 
tured eighteen  out  of  thirty.  At  another  time,  a  few  days  after- 
wards, learning  by  some  means  that  General  McCook  and  staff 
would  pass  out  on  the  Murfreesboro  road,  Colonel  Morgan  placed 
some  fifty  of  us  in  ambush,  at  a  point  just  beyond  the  toll-gate,  to 
capture  the  Yankee  general  and  Kis  whole  staff.     The  old  gate- 


OF   MORGAN   AiiD   HIS    MEN.  115 

keeper,  who  had  observed  our  movements,  informed  A[cCook  that 
there  were  about  one  hundred  armed  men  in  the  woods  aliead  of 
tliem.  McCook  soon  became  convinced  of  the  danger,  and  put- 
ting spurs  to  their  horses,  the  whole  party  proceeded,  at  Gilpin 
speed,  never  for  a  moment  halting,  until  they  reached  the  city. 
The  gate-keeper  paid  the  penalty  of  his  treachery.  The  boys 
seized  upon  him  and  hung  him  before  Colonel  Morgan  could  inter- 
fere in  his  behalf. 

"  Not  long  after  this,  General  Buell  was  accosted  as  he  went 
out  from  dinner  on  the  landing  of  tiie  hotel  by  a  wagoner,  who  in- 
formed him  that  the  next  day  a  squad  of  rebels  was  coming  into 
his  (the  wagoner's)  neighborhood  to  procure  provisions,  and  that 
if  the  general  would  send  out  some  cavalry  the  whole  force  might 
be  captured.  Buell  asked  the  wagoner  his  name.  He  gave  it, 
and  told  the  Yankee  general  that  he  would  keep  him  posted  with 
regard  to  the  movements  of  the  secesh.  Buell,  suspecting  there 
might  be  some  trick  in  the  matter,  inquired  into  it.  To  his  sur- 
prise, he  was  convinced  it  was  a  verity,  as  there  was  just  such  a 
man  living  in  the  designated  neighborhood  who  was  a  wagoner, 
•well  known  to  the  community  for  his  honesty  and  probity. 

''The  wagoner,  who  in  reality  was  no  other  than  Colonel  Mor- 
gan, duly  disguised,  soon  disa})peared  from  the  hotel.  After  he 
had  looked  round  the  streets  to  his  satisfaction,  and  heard  all  the 
Dews,  he  left  one  of  our  men  behind  to  spy  their  movements  and 
appwse  him  of  the  starting  of  the  expedition,  and  regained  the 
camp  in  safety. 

"The  next  evening  the  Lincolnites  set  out,  highly  elated  with 
the  glory  and  success  that  their  enterprise  promised.  Just  before 
they  left  Nashville,  the  man  who  had  been  keeping  a  strict  watch 
over  their  movements,  mounted  his  horse,  and  following  the 
nearest  route  to  our  encampment,  gave  Colonel  Morgan  the 
information. 

"  Immediately  the  colonel  prepared  for  the  capture  of  the  whole 
force.  The  men  were  so  arranged  and  instructed  that  the  escape 
of  the  Yankees  was  impossible.  On  they  came,  dashing  like 
mailed  horsemen  of  the  olden  time,  their  clanking  sabres  and 
tramping  hordes  making  the  earth  to  resound  with  mighty  rever- 
berations. When  they  were  sufficiently  ensnared,  the  signal  was 
given,  and  we  rushed  upon  their  front  and  rear.  Our  success  was 
complete.  Out  of  eighty  that  came  to  our  overthrow,  there 
escaped  but  four  or  five  to  tell  the  tale  of  their  surprise  and 
defeat." 


116  EAIDS    AXD   EOMAKCE 

"I  cannot  remain  here  in  capdviU',  while  my  comrades  are  cov- 
ering tliemselves  with  glory!"  exclaimed  Cliarley,  his  enthusiasm 
roused  to  the  highest  degree  under  the  young  man's  thrilling  re- 
cital. "I  must  go  from  here — go  where  I  can  raise  my  arm  in 
my  country's  cause.  But,  alas!  how  can  1  get  out  from  this 
loathsome  place?"  he  added,  sighing  deeply. 

"  There  is  but  one  way,  my  friend." 

''  And  what  is  that  ?"  asked  Charley,  his  face  growing  instantly 
animated  at  the  bare  mention  of  escape. 

"Take  the  oath.     There  is  no  other  way  to  escape." 

"Take  the  oath !"  lie  exclaimed,  starting  from  his  seat.  "  Take 
that  infamous  oath  ?  Never — never !  Death,  a  thousand  deaths, 
first!" 

"It  is  humiliating  in  one  view  of  the  case;  but  in  this  instance, 
I  have  decided  '  to  stoop  to  conquer,'  and  I  sliall  take  the  oath  to- 
morrow. "Were  there  any  other  alternative,  I  would  not  resort 
to  this  means  of  escape.  But  there  remains  to  me  nothing  but 
this  or  death.     I  choose  the  former." 

The  guard  approached  where  the  two  were  sitting.  It  was  the 
same  who  had  so  abruptly  hushed  the  prisoner's  song.  The  young 
man  recognized  him.  His  brow  became  dark  and  knitted,  and  his 
lips  firmly  compressed.  He  gazed  a  moment  upon  his  foe  and 
passed  to  another  part  of  the  iuclosure. 

"  Have  you  decided  the  question  of  taking  the  oath  ?"  asked  the 
young  man,  as  he  encountered  Charley  in  the  long,  dark  passage 
that  led  to  the  cell. 

"  Oh,  no,  no — I  cannot.  I  was  ofiered  my  liberty  when  I  came 
here,  if  I  would  but  swear  to  its  detestable  requirements.  I  re- 
fused.    I  would  rather  perish  than  do  it." 

"I  appreciate  your  sentiments.  They  have  been  mine;  but 
my  views  have  clipnged.  Of  what  avail  will  it  be  to  me  or  my 
country,  if  I  lie  here  and  rot,  merely  to  gratify  the  cruel  hate  of 
these  wretches?  I'll  take  their  oath,  and  then  go  forth  to  slay 
them;  and  in  so  doing  1  shall  not  feel  that  I  have  sinned  against 
God,  or  sacrificed  my  honor.  It  is  this  or  death  here.  They 
force  i»e  to  it.  I  take  what  appears  to  me  the  less  of  two  evils. 
They  have  proved  nothing  against  me.  They  will  not  bring  me 
to  trial,  that  I  may  have  justice,  and  they  shall  not  keep  me  here 
to  die." 

"You  speak  truly,"  replied  Charley;  "we  shall  have  no  show 
of.justice.  I  know  that  I  must  take  the  vile  oath  or  die  here,  amid 
wretchedness  and  filth.     I  cannot  escape — they  will  never  bring 


OF   MOEGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  117 

me  to  trial.  And  yet,  in  view  of  all  this,"  he  added,  after  a  few 
raoineni's  pause,  ''  I  cannot  see  how  I  cun  take  that  oath." 

"  I  do  not  advise  you  to  act  against  yonr  convictions  of  honor. 
You  must  decide  for  yourself.  I  have  fully  made  up  my  mind, 
and  shall  take  the  oath  to-morrow.  I  think  it  is  the  wisest  thing 
you  can  do.     But  you  mnst  rely  on  your  own  judgment." 

The  two  separated,  each  to  his  noisome  cell. 


118  KAIDS    AND    K0:MA2sCE 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    REFLECTION    AND    ITS    RESULTS. 

Charley  lay  in  his  dark  and  narrow  cell  that  night,  his  mind 
perplexed  with  the  question  before  him.  Hour  after  hour  passed 
on,  the  silence  all  unbroken,  save  by  the  dull  tramp  of  the  sentry, 
and  yet  the  decision  was  not  reached.  His  noble  nature  revolted 
at  the  idea  of  the  humiliating  act.  How  could  he  sacrifice  his 
honor  by  pledging  himself  to  do  that  which  his  soul  detested? 
H<nv  could  he  again  meet  his  parents  and  friends  with  that  burn- 
ing curse  in  his  heart? 

"  Had  I  better  die  a  wretched  death  than  cover  myself  with  this 
deep  infamy  ?"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  turned  uneasily  on  his  iron 
bed.  1  do  not  regard  it  as  a  sin.  God  will  not  hold  me  responsible 
for  saving  my  life  by  any  means  from  the  hands  of  these  heartless 
tyrants.  Oh,  no,  a  just  Maker  will  not  condemn.  Life  or  death, 
which  shall  I  have?  Shall  I  languish  here  for  months,  and  then 
go  down  to  the  grave,  while  my  country  needs  my  services,  or  shall 
I  accept  the  only  method  of  escape  that  is  otfered  me,  and  go  forth 
to  vindicate  justice  and  truth  against  hellish  wrong  and  fanatical 
error?  Here  I  can  do  nothing^ — in  the  battle-field  I  might  avenge 
some  wrong  that  my  people  have  suffered,  strike  some  blow  that 
will  aid  in  their  redemption.  Others  have  taken  this  oath — men 
of  high  and  noble  sentiments — rather  than  die,  as  I  must  do,  in  a 
horrid  prison.  If  I  could  but  escape;  but  this  I  cannot  do,  it  is 
utterly  impossible — impossible." 

Thus,  until  the  night  watches  were  far  spent,  did  he  debate  the 
knotty  question.  Sleep  overtook  him,  and  found  him  yet  unde- 
termined. He  awoke  from  his  fitful  slumbers,  which  had  been 
haunted  by  horrid  dreams.  He  felt  all  the  wretchedness  of  the 
low,  damp  cell,  filled  with  every  variety  of  disgusting  vermin. 
His  braiu  reeled  with  exhaustion,  his  whole  frame  trembled  witii 
feebleness,  which  every  day  must  increase.  He  locked  hastily 
back  upon  all  he  had  endured,  then  forward  to  all  he  must  yet 
suffer,  and,  clasping  his  hands  to  his  burning  forehead,   he  ex- 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MKN.  119 

clainiefl,  "I  cannot  endure  tliis!  I  will  go — I  must  go!"  It  was 
all  he  said.  The  decision  had  been  made,  and  he  drove  the  de- 
tested subject  tVoni  his  iniud.  It  had  been  a  fearful  struggle,  but 
it  was  over,  and  forever. 

"1  go,"  he  said  to  the  young  man,  as  they  met  at  the  door  of 
the  dining-room.  "Ask  me  no  questions,  but  make  known  my 
request  with  yours,  and  we  will  go  out  together." 

Let  us  kindly  throw  a  vail  over  this  scene  of  deep  humiliation 
through  wliich  these  two  proud,  honorable  spirits  were  called  to 
pass,  and  shut  out  forever  from  remembrance  the  narrow,  disgust- 
ing room,  with  its  low-browed,  arrogant  official,  and  his  train  of 
base  attendants;  the  taunt,  the  jeer  of  the  mocking  crowd  ;  the 
burning  cheek,  the  trembling  frame,  moved  by  the  deep  indigna- 
tion that  heaved  within;  the  defiant  eye,  the  compressed  mouth; 
the  deep,  dark  oath  which  the  proud  heart  took,  while  the  lips 
were  si)eaking  strange  words;  the  look  of  scorn  and  bitter  detest- 
ation, as  they  turned  to  seek  the  streets — all  this  we  pass,  as  far 
too  sad  to  dwell  upon. 

The  trying  ordeal  is  over.  The  two  young  men  are  once  more 
free. 


120  KAir)3    AND    BOMANOE 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SEARCH  FOR  COLONEL  MORGAX's  CAMP. 

"  And  now  for  ]^organ  !"  said  George  Irving,  as  the  two  gained 
the  street. 

"  But  how  shall  we  get  there?  You  wlio  know  tins  country, 
Irving,  must  devise  the  plan." 

"The  first  tiling  to  be  done-is  to  visit  a  barber;  the  next,  to 
obtain  a  disguise." 

•'But  how  is  this  latter  to  be  procured,  Irving?  Every  cent  I 
had  was  taken  from  rae  when  they  put  me  in  prison,  and  I  have 
not  a  friend  to  whom  I  would  dare  to  apply." 

''  You  mentioned  to  me  a  gentleman  who  interested  himself  for 
you  when  you  were  first  committed.  Do  you  know  where  he 
resides  ?  I  would  not  for  a  moment  hesitate  to  make  known 
our  circumstances  to  any  true  Southern  man.  I  am  sure  such  a 
one  could  not  be  addressed  in  vain," 

"Indeed,  I  cannot  find  him.  I  have  no  idea  where  he  is.  I 
saw  him  but  for  a  few  minutes,  and  did  not  so  much  as  karn  his 
name." 

"  Well,  w^e  must  trust  to  our  wits.  I  do  not  fear.  Let's  seek 
the  barber,  and  trust,  like  Micawber,  for  'something  to  turn  up' 
for  our  relief.  Perhaps  it  will  be  better  if  we  separate.  I  will 
go  ahead  of  you  a  few  paces,  keeping  always  in  sight;  and  as  I 
ii:ive  been  here  several  times  before,  and  have  a  pretty  good 
acquaintance  with  the  streets,  I  think  we  will  avoid  suspicion." 

The  two  proceeded,  as  agreed  on,  to  the  barber's,  from  whence, 
relieved  of  their  hirsute  appearance,  they  emerged  so  metamor- 
phosed as  to  defy  recognition. 

They  were  walking  leisurely  along  the  street,  scarcely  knowing 
whither  to  direct  their  steps,  when  Charley,  grasping  the  arm  of 
his  friend,  ejaculated — 

'•  There  he  is !     I  am  sure  I  am  not  deceived." 

"  Who,  y.our  friend  ?" 

"Yes;  let's  follow  him." 

The   two  turned,  and  walked  after  the  gentleman,  until  tney 


OF   MORGAN    AND    IJIS    MEN.  121 

reached  his  business  house.  It  wus  the  diuner-hour,  and  no  one 
was  in.  They  entered,  and  approached  his  office,  where  the  mer- 
cliant  was  silting  with  one  of  his  clerks. 

Tlie  young  man  rose  to  bid  them  enter.  As  he  encountered 
Irving,  ho  started,  and  gazed  earnestly  upon  the  visitor. 

*■'  Irving!"  lie  exclaimed,  "is  that  you?" 

The  soldier,  surprised  to  find  himself  recognized,  fixed  a  look 
of  searching  inquiry  on  the  stranger.  A  moment's  scrutiny  suf- 
ficed. 

'•  Why,  Arthur,  how  you  have  changed  since  last  wo  met!  I 
did  not  expect  to  find  you  here." 

Introdilctions  followed,  to  which  ensued  a  long  conversation, 
wherein  the  individual  story  of  the  friends  was  rehearsed.  Every 
assistance  that  Charley  and  Irving  needed  was  afforded,  and  a  few 
hours  found  them  with  their  preparations  for  leaving  the  city 
entirely  perfected. 

Wholly  changed  in  personelle,  and  provided  with  some  whiskey 
to  treat  any  pickets  they  might  encounter,  and  a  few  trifling  ar- 
ticles of  trade,  the  two  set  out  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  follow- 
ing day,  on  their  perilous  search  for  Morgan. 

They  elud%l  the  first  line  of  pickets  by  crossing  fields,  thus 
altogether  avoiding  the  public  road.  As  night  was  overtaking 
them,  they  came,  unexpectedly,  on  the  outer  pickets.  Retreat  or 
escape  was  impossible.  They  were  discovered  :  already  the.  cry  of 
*•  Halt !"  rung  out  from  the  sentinel. 

"  We  must  trust  to  finesse  and  our  bottles,  Charley." 

"  All  right,"  and  the  two  obeyed  the  summons,  and  with  a  very 
nonchalant  air  stood  w\aiting  the  approach  of  the  three  pickets 
that  advanced  to  meet  them. 

''  How  d'ye  do,  friend?"  said  Irving  blandly,  stepping  forward, 
and  extending  his  hand  to  the  one  in  front. 

The  Federal  w\as  an  Irishman,  and  quite  pleased  with  Irving's 
cordial  manner,  returned  the  salutation  quite  heartily. 

"  An'  whar  is  yer  pass,  friend  ?"  asked  the  picket,  as  Charley 
explained  to  him  that  they  wished  to  go  beyond  the  lines  for  the 
purpose  of  making  a  little  money  out  of  the  secesh. 

"  Ob,  we  didn't  think  it  was  necessary  to  get  a  pass — loyal  men 
like  ourselves — who  are  juat  going  out  a  few  miles  to  sell  some 
little  articles  by  way  of  turning  a  penny  or  two." 

"  We  felt  sure  we  should  meet  with  friends  like  yourself,  and  so 
we  brought  along  a  little  of  the  needful,"  and  Irving  took  out  his 
bottle,  and  seated  himself  with  perfect  sangfroid  on  an  old  log  by 

6 


122  RAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

the  wayside,  beckoning  to  the  Irishman  and  his  two  companions 
to  do  likewise. 

"  I  feel  pretty  tired.  Don't  yon,  Michael  ?"  said  he,  addressing 
Charley,  who  by  this  time  had  produced  his  bottle  and  handed  it 
to  the  Irishman  on  his  left. 

"  Yaas,  an'  I  do,"  was  the  reply,  as  the  bottle  was  turned  up  to 
his  m6uth,  and  then  passed  on. 

"  Any  rich  secesh  below  here  ?"  asked  Irving  of  the  picket  on 
his  right.  "  Me  and  Mike  want  to  sell  out  our  little  stock  as  soon 
as  we  can,  for  I  left  a  sick  wife  at  home,  and  you  know  it  won't 
do  to  leave  her  too  long.  Have  you  a  family,  friend  ?  Here,  take 
a  little  more ;  you  need  it ;  hard  work  standing  picket,"  and  he 
passed  the  bottle  round.  "  Pretty  good,"  he  added,  as  he  put  it 
to  his  mouth  for  a  second  drink. 

"An' it  is,  an'  shure,"  said  the  Irishman  next  him,  who  was 
jnst  ready  to  apply  Charley's  bottle  for  a  tliird  drink. 

"Do  you  watch  all  night?"  asked  Irving,  and  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  he  turned  to  Charley  and  said,  "  Come,  Mike,  we  can't 
get  on  much  to-night ;  let's  turn  in  with  our  friends  here,"  and 
he  commenced  to  unstrap  his  budget,  and  make  preparations  for 
the  proposed  stay.  "  Here,  boys,  you  must  take  ^  little  more. 
Nothing  like  it  to  keep  up  the  spirits  these  long  nights,"  and  the 
bottle  was  again  passed. 

"  We  don't  stand  here  all  night ;  we  gets  relieved  in  half  an 
hour,"  responded  a  little  red-headed  Irishman,  one  of  the  three 
who  had  taken  but  little  part  in  the  scene,  save  to  do  duty  at  the 
bottle.     ".We  goes  off  now,  d'rectly." 

"  Well,  then,  Mike,  we'll  go  on.  If  we  can't  have  good  company 
here,  we  had  better  find  a  better  lodging-place.  Any  house  near, 
friend  ?  Here,  take  this,  it  will  help  to  steady  your  nerves,"  and 
he  handed  him  the  bottle.  "  Maybe  you'll  go  along  and  show  us 
the  way  ?" 

"  There  is  a  house  just  a  little  ahead  to  the  right.  Maybe  you'll 
get  rest  there.     We  must  go  back  to  camp." 

Irving  rebuckled  his  strap,  rose  to  his  feet,  swaggered  round  a 
few  minutes,  talking  about  the  horrors  of  war  and  the  trials  of  the 
poor  soldier,  bade  the  three  friends  good-by,  expressing  a  hope 
they  might  meet  again,  and,  followed  by  Charley,  walked  on, 
whistling  Rory  O'More. 

"  Well  done  !"  said  Charley,  when  they  were  out  of  hearing  of 
the  pickets.  "  We  are  now  safe,  thank  God  1  and  will  soon  be 
with  Morgan." 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  123 

"  *  Connt  no  man  hapj)y  until  he  is  dead,'  said  the  old  philoso- 
pher, and  we  cannot  count  ourselves  safe  until  with  Morgan.  How- 
ever, I  regard  the  greatest  danger  past.  Most  of  the  citizens  in 
this  part  of  the  State  are  Soutlierners,  and  sliould  we  cross  some 
Yankee  sympathizer,  we  can  very  readily  cajole  him.  But,  see, 
yonder  is  the  house.  Shall  we  turn  in  here  for  the  night,  or  drive 
on  a  few  miles  further  ?" 

"  Turn  in,  I  decide.  "We  are  both  weary  and  hungry.  Should 
we  go  on  we  may  not  meet  with  another  house  in  some  distance, 
and  without  blankets  as  we  are,  we  should  find  it  rather  disagree- 
able sleeping  out  in  the  dew  and  chill  night-air.  I  say,  run  the 
risk — let's  apply  at  the  mansion  for  supper  and  lodging." 

*'  Remember,  we  are  peddlers,  Irving,"  said  Charley,  as  tlie  two 
gained  the  front  yard  gate.  "  And  do  not  forget  that  a  peddler's 
chief  characteristic  is  asking  high  prices  and  selhng  for  nothing. 
I  have  no  doubt  but  these  people  will  be  glad  to  get  our*  needles 
and  thread.  We  must  drive  a  pretty  good  bargain  with  them, 
that  they  may  believe  we  are  really  what  we  profess  to  be.  You 
must  do  the  trading,  Irving.  I  do  not  know  the  price  of  a  single 
article  that  we  have  in  our  budgets." 

"Oh,  I  caj^  do  that,  Charley.  I  sold  goods  for  three  years, 
when  I  was  a  chap,  and  I  well  remember  the  price  of  needles, 
pins,  tapes,  combs,  etc.  I'll  multiply  these  old  prices  by  six,  and 
then  I'll  be  sure  to  have  them  high  enough.  But  if  we  find  these 
people  true  to  our  cause,  and  they  treat  us  pretty  kindly,  we  will 
just  make  a  lump  bargain  with  them,  and  say  no  more  about  it." 

"That  would  do,  Irving,  if  we  were  entirely  beyond  Federal 
limits.  But  we  must  keep  some  things  to  preserve  appearances, 
should  we  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  blue-coats.  And  by  all 
means  we  must  hold  fast  to  our  bottles.  It  will  not  do  to  let 
them  slip." 

"But  what  will  we  do  with  them  now,  Charley?  They  will 
make  us  suspicious  if  they  are  seen." 

"  Oh,  give  them  to  me  ;  I'll  secure  them,"  and  Charley  stepped 
aside  from  the  pathway  that  led  to  the  house,  and  threw  the  two 
remaining  bottles  into  a  clump  of  evergreens.  "There,"  said  he, 
'■'' requiescat  in  pace  until  the  morning." 

The  two  approached  the  house,  reached  the  door,  and  knocked 
for  admittance.  After  waiting  a  few  minutes,  a  servant  came  to 
the  door,  who  invited  them  to  walk  in. 

"  Ask  your  mistress  if  two — shall  I  say  gentlemen  or  fellows  V 
whispered  Irving  to  Charley. 


124:  KAID5    AND   KO^IANCE 

"Peddlers,  of  course." 

The  negro  heard  the  question,  and  giggled  outright. 

"  Ask  your  mistress  if  two  peddlers  can  stay  all  niglit." 

The  girl  went  into  her  mistress's  room,  and  soon  returned,  ac- 
companied by  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  "Walk  in,  walk  in,"  said  the  old  man,  after  he  had  thoroughly 
surveyed  the  two  strangers,  by  the  dim  light  of  the  flickering  can 
die.     "  I  see  you  are  no  plaguy  Yankees.     Walk  in." 

After  conversing  with  the  old  gentleman  for  a  short  time,  the 
two  dared  to  inform  him  who  they  were.  Supper  was  imme- 
diately ordered,  and  partaken  of  with  fine  zest  by  the  hungry 
travellers. 

The  next  morning  the  old  gentleman  gave  them  some  valuable 
directions  to  guide  them  on  their  journey.  lie  would  receive  no 
compensation,  but  he  was  amply  rewarded  for  his  hospitality  in 
the  quantity  of  pins,  needles,  and  thread  left  with  his  grateful  wife. 


OF  MORGAN   AND  HIS   MEN.  125 


CHAPTER   XXII.  ^ 

LEBANON,    TENNESSEE. 

After  travelling  for  five  days  over  fields  and  throngli  lanes  and 
by-roads  the  two  soldiers  came,  after  many  delays,  upon  Morgan's 
camp  just  as  the  men  were  preparing  their  supper.  The  old  woods 
rang  with  cheers  and  applause  when  it  was  ascertained  who  the 
newly  arrived  visitors  were. 

The  boys  gathered  around  Irving  to  welcome  him  back  again ; 
and  as  they  shook  his  hand  their  beaming  faces  and  kind  words 
fully  attested  the  high  estimate  in  which  he  was  held  by  his  com- 
rades. And  Charley,  who  was  known  to  not  a  few,  was  received 
with  the  warmest  expressions  of  friendship. 

''  IIow  do  you  do,  Charley  ?"  and  our  young  hero  felt  both  hands 
clasped  in  kindly  gratulation,  and  recognized  the  familiar  voices  of 
his  two  old  friends,  John  and  Bob. 

*'  We  thought  you  were  dead,  old  fellow,  picked  off  by  some 
vile  Yankee  rifle,"  said  one;  "or  perhaps  had  fallen  alive  into 
their  clutches,  and  sent  to  Camp  Chase  for  the  imi)rovement  of 
your  morals,"  said  another;  "or  had  taken  life-long  lodgings  in 
some  Nashville  prison,  where  we  should  never  be  able  to  visit 
nor  even  hear  how  you  were  faring,  laughingly  remarked  a  third. 
"  You  are  right,  Brent;  there's  just  where  I  have  been  accom- 
modated. But,  I  am  happy  to  say,  not  for  a  lifetime,  though  it 
looked  very  much  like  it  at  first." 

"Tell  us  all  about  it,  Irving,  do— all  your  experience  with  the 
cut-throat  Yankees,"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices. 

''  How  did  you  get  out,  and  how  have  you  made  your  way 
through  to  us?"  and  the  boys,  forgetting  their  supper,  crowded 
round  him  to  hear  his  story. 

He  told  them  all :  how  he  had  been  captured  in  his  attempt  to 
get  within  the  Federal  lines;  of  his  being  accused  as  a  spy,  and 
without  trial  offered  the  alternative  of  tlie  oath  or  imprisonment ; 
how  he  had  chosen  the  latter,  but  had  been  made  to  repent  his 
choice  by  the  wretchedness  of  his  condition  and  the  daily  insults 


126  RAIDS   A2sD   llOMANCE 

he  received ;  then  of  his  change  of  purpose,  taking  the  oath, 
release,  and  subsequent  tramp  from  Nashville  to  the  camp. 

"Bravo,  bravo,  my  boy!"  tilled  the  air  as  the  hero  concluded 
his  narrative.  "  You  have  out-Yankeed  them.  Bravo !  bravo  for 
old  Kentucky  !"  and  the  boys  threw  their  caps  up  in  the  air,  and 
huzzaed,  until  the  whole  camp  resounded  with  their  cheers. 

"  Why,  kow  you  have  changed,  Charley !  We  scarcely  knew 
you,  old  friend.  You  look  pale  and  thin.  But  never  mind,  you'l^ 
soon  rally  again.  Come  with  us,"  and  Lawrence,  taking  him  by 
the  arm,  led  him  away  to  his  mess,  where,  amid  the  aroma  of  the 
steaming  coffee,  and  the  no  less  grateful  odor  of  the  smoking  fried 
ham,  they  too  related  in  turn  their  hairbreadth  escapes  since  last 
they  parted. 

Irving  reported  to  Colonel  Morgan  the  success  of  his  undertak- 
ing, and  was  informed  by  the  colonel  that  he  should  set  out  on 
the  second  day  following  on  an  expedition  to  visit  some  of  the 
Yankee  garrisons. 

"Hold  yourself  in  readiness,  Irving.  I  want  you  to  be  one 
of  the  number." 

"Certainly,  colonel,"  was  the  reply;  "nothing  would  give  me 
greater  pleasure  than  to  pay  off  a  small  portion  of  the  s'core  I 
have  against  the  Feds." 

Charley,  who  had  no  idea  of  being  left  idle  and  inactive,  imme- 
diately began  preparation  for  joining  the  proposed  expedition.  He 
went  out  that  evening  into  the  neighborhood  of  the  encampment, 
and  through  the  assistance  of  his  two  friends,  John  and  Bob,  who 
were  well  known  in  the  vicinity,  and  who  were  already  well 
provided  for,  he  succeeded  in  procuring  from  a  friendly  farmer  a 
good  horse,  and  Colonel  Morgan  furnished  him  with  saddle  and 
bridle  and  arms,  so  that  by  niglitfall  he  was  pretty  well  equipped. 

The  expedition,  numbering  one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  headed 
by  their  gallant  leader,  all  well  mounted  and  armed,  set  out  the 
following  morning  at  daylight.  They  travelled  rapidly  all  day, 
and  late  in  the  evening  came  upon  Lebanon,  where  a  small  de- 
tachment of  a  Federal  regiment  was  stationed.  Their  capture  was 
a  matter  of  easy  achievement,  mere  sport  for  the  gallant  lads  who 
knew  no  fear  in  the  presence  of  the  foe.  The  prisoners  were  pa- 
roled, their  arms  distributed  among  the  captors,  and  the  stores 
in  the  place  secured.  Every  thing  went  "  merry  as  a  marriage- 
bell."  The  boys  congratulated  each  other  on  their  success,  and 
only  regretted  tliat  the  enemy  had  yielded  without  being  made 
to  "  taste  gunpowder  "     Horses  were  fed,  stabled,  and  the  victors 


OF   MOKGAN    AND   UIS    MEN.  127 

retired  to  rest  after  their  brilliant  coup  de  main^  feeling  perfectly 
secure  from  all  danger. 

The  night  wore  on.  The  weary  men  slept  peacefully.  Just 
as  the  day  was  dawning,  the  alarm  rang  out.  '^The  enemy  is 
upon  us."  Men  started  hastily  from  their  beds  and  rushed  into 
the  streets.  Every  thing  was  wild  confusion.  Tlie  order  was 
given  by  Colonel  Morgan  to  defend  themselves  and  escape  as  best 
they  could.  This,  under  the  suddenness  of  the  surprise,  was  all 
that  could  be  done.  Some  seized  their  guns  and  prepared  for  the 
attack  ;  others  ran  to  secure  their  horses.. 

The  enemy,  headed  by  Dumont,  drove  in  upon  them  in  over- 
whelming numbers.  Resistance  was  useless.  Order  could  not  be 
brought  out  of  the  sad  confusion  that  everywhere  reigned.  They 
were  surprised  by  thrice  their  number,  and  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  the  foe,  who  pressed  in  upon  them,  confident  of  an  easy 
triumph.  Seeing  the  hopelessness  of  an  attempt  at  defence,  the 
order  was  a  second  time  given  to  cut  their  way  through,  each 
man  to  depend  upon  himself  for  his  own  safety. 

Morgan  mounted  his  beautiful  mare,  and,  regardless  of  conse- 
quences, dashed  through  the  advancing  ranks.  It  was  a  miracle 
that  he  escaped.  His  noble  animal  was  shot  under  him,  and  it 
was  only  by  the  most  reckless  daring  and  courageous  self-possession 
that  he  saved  his  life.  Some  of  his  men  essaying  to  follow  his  ex- 
ample were  wounded,  others  were  killed.  Among  the  latter  was 
our  young  friend  Bob,  who,  in  attempting  to  escape  from  three 
Yankees,  two  of  whom  he  had  shot,  was  struck  by  a  ball  in  the 
heart,  and  fell  just  as  he  felt  himself  securely  beyond  the  range  of 
their  guns.  Most  of  those  who  had  succeeded  in  mounting  es- 
caped, but  about  eighty  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy — among 
them,  sad  to  say,  Charley  and  Irving.  These  two  men,  failing  to 
receive  the  warning  in  time,  had  found  it  impossible  to  reach  their 
horses,  and  had  to  yield  to  the  numbers  wlio,  rushing  upon  them, 
seized  them  and  forced  away  their  arms  before  they  could  prepare 
for  any  resistance.  The  prisoners  were  assembled  in  a  large  ui  - 
occupied  building,  and  a  strong  guard  placed  round  it. 

"•  Ho,  for  Camp  Chase,"  said  one  of  the  victors,  as  they  closed 
the  door  upon  the  captives. 

''Never  for  me,"  said  Charley  to  Irving,  his  brow  darkening 
and  his  eye  flashing  with  the  thought.  "Death,  but  not  Camp 
Chase."  ♦ 

"  Amen,"  responded  Irving.  "  A  short  imprisonment  for  me, 
or  death  to  end  the  scene." 


128  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

They  could  see  from  the  windows  of  the  house  in  which  they 
were  confined  their  dead  comrades  borne  along  the  streets. 

"There  goes  poor  Bob  Reed — dead!  dead!"  exclaimed  Charley, 
starting  back  from  the  window  at  which  he  had  been  standicir, 
"I  wonder  what  has  become  of  Lawrence  and  Brent;  perhaj)S 
they  have  met  the  same  fate  with  Reed,"  and  Charley  heaved  a 
bitter  sigh,  and  the  tears,  despite  the  efforts  to  suppress  them, 
rushed  to  his  eyes. 

"  Would  I  were  in  poor  Bob's  place,"  he  added  after  a  few  mo- 
ments' silence.  "  Misfortune  attends  me  on  every  side.  This  is 
my  third  imprisonment,  and  I  have  been  in  the  service  but  nine 
months.     Better  be  dead  than  thus  doomed." 

As  he  spoke,  his  eye  rested  on  the  plain  gold  ring  that  encircled 
his  finger — Mary's  gift — and  dashing  the  unbidden  tears  away,  lie 
settled  himself  on  an  old  box  in  the  corner  of  the  room  and  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  We'll  outwit  these  infernal  Yankees  yet.  Camp  Chase  will 
never  have  the  honor  of  holding  Colonel  John  Morgan's  men,  rest 
assured  of  that." 

"•You  are  right,  Irving,"  interposed  Cal.  Morgan,  a  younger 
brother  of  the  colonel.  "  It  will  be  but  rare  sport  for  my  brother 
to  rescue  us  from  these  scoundrels.  I  have  no  more  fear  of  Camp 
Chase  than  I  have  of  the  gallows." 

But  Charley  could  not  feel  assured  that  so  happy  a  fate  awaited 
them.  He  felt  he  was  doomed,  and  that  it  was  useless  to  struggle 
against  his  destiny.  Dark  thoughts  entered  and  took  possession 
of  his  soul.  He  could  see  no  light  before  him.  He  dwelt  on  the 
horrors  of  his  former  imprisonment,  on  the  degradation,  insult, 
and  suffering  that  awaited  him. 

"I  will  never  again  pass  Louisville  a  prisoner,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, sadly.  "The  cold  waves  of  the  Ohio  shall  roll  over  me 
first." 

The  next  day  active  arrangements  were  made  to  convey  the 
men  to  the  river,  in  order  that  they  might  be  transported  by  boat 
to  Cincinnati. 


OF   MoRGAi^    AND    HIS   MEN.  129 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PROPOSED    PLAN    FOR    ESCAPE. 

It  was  a  great  trial  to  tliese  noble  spirits  to  have  to  submit  to 
imprisonment,   aggravated  as  it  was  by  the   coarse   taunts  and 
brutal  jeers  of  the  unfeeling  guard,  who  appeared  to  take  increased  , 
delight  in  tormenting  their  unfortunate  victims,  because  they  were 
Morgan's  men. 

The  position  to  these  proud  Kentuckians  was  one  of  the  deepest 
humiliation— one  that  each  man  of  them  had  vowed  never  to  oc- 
cupy. But  the  alarm  was  so  sudden,  the  surprise  so  unexpected 
and  complete,  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  any  successful 
resistance.  They  were  overpowered  and  robbed  of  their  arms 
almost  before  they  knew  the  enemy  were  in  the  town.  And,  to 
add  to  their  distress,  they  were  told  that  Colonel  Morgan  was 
killed  in  his  attempt  to  out  his  way  out.  This  was  to  them  the 
saddest  feature  of  the  whole  matter.  Many  of  them  had  confident- 
ly expected,  throughout  the  long  hours  of  the  weary  night,  that 
their  brave  leader  would  gather  together  a  force,  and  return  to 
their  rescue. 

They  felt  fully  assured  that  never  would  one  of  his  men  be  per- 
mitted to  enter  the  walls  of  any  Northern  prison,  if  it  were  in  the 
power  of  mortal  man  to  avert  it.  But  when  they  heard  that  Mor- 
gan was  dead,  this  h(»pe  forsook  them,  and  they  saw  their  inevita- 
ble doom  was  protracted  imprisonment,  unless  they  could  extricate 
themselves,  by  their  own  effort,  from  their  captive  condition. 

It  was  proposed  to  bribe  the  guard,  but  there  were  so  many 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  successful  escape,  even  if  beyond  the 
prison  walls,  as  the  enemy,  in  large  force,  entirely  surrounded  the 
town,  that  this  project  had  to  be  abandoned.  Many  favored  it ; 
among  these  were  Charley  and  young  Irving,  who  believed  there 
would  be  comparatively  little  ri&k  in  it. 

'^Do  not  give  yourself  any  uneasiness,  boys,"  said  young  Mor- 
gan, a  brother  of  the  colonel,  who  had  hstened  with  an  air  of 
nonchalance  to  the  animated  debate;  ''  my  brother  is  not  dead- 
there  is  no  Yankee  bullet  that  can  kill  him.     Be  quiet,  and  Iwt 

6* 


130  KALDS    AND    ROMANCE 

things  take  their  way.  We'll  be  attended  to  in  proper  time.  My 
life  as  the  forfeit,  if  we  ever  pass  the  gates  of  a  Yankee  pri^ion." 

"You  speak  very  confidently,  Cal.,"  replied  young  Irving ;  "  but, 
for  my  part,  I  do  not  feel  quite  so  well  assured.  I  know  what  is 
before  us.  I  have  recently  had  a  bit  of  experience  in  prison  life, 
and  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  dispense  with  the  tender  mercies  of 
the  Yankees  for  all  future  time.     I  vote  for  bribing  the  guard." 

"  We  have  only  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  all  told,  Irving — 
not  two  dollars  apiece — and  it  is  folly  to  talk  of  bribing  the  "guard 
with  that  meagre  sum.  Moreover,  he  would  not  dare  to  let  us  all 
go,  and  who  among  us  would  be  willing  to  remain?  And  even  if 
we  were  out,  the  great  probability  is  that  half  of  us  would  be 
caught  again.  I  think  we  had  better  remain  together,  and  w^hea 
the  time  comes,  our  combined  force  can  strike  a  heavy  blow." 

"Thou  reasonest  well,  Cal.,  my  friend,  and  we  will  have  to 
decide  the  question  by  vote.  All  favoring  the  plan  of  bribing  the 
guard,  hold  up  the  right  hand." 

"  Only  twenty.  The  majority  is  against  us,  Charley.  Like  good 
democrats,  we  will  yield  to  its  voice." 

Charley  assented,  but  it  was  in  sadness.  "The  bitter  fruit  of 
taking  that  oath,"  he  murmured  to  himself,  and  turned  to  the  win- 
dow to  look  out.  The  house  opposite  had  been  appropriated  to 
the  slain.  It  was  through  that  faded  brown  door  that  he  had 
seen  the  dead  body  of  his  friend  borne. 

"I  wish  I  was  in  poor  Bob's  place,"  he  said  again  to  himself, 
as  he  gazed  fixedly  at  the  old  frame  house.  Tears  rushed  to  his 
eyes,  but  quickly  he  dashed  them  away — he  w'ould  not  be  seen 
unnerved — and  commenced  to  hum  the  air  of  "  Auld  Lang 
Syne." 

It  was  a  most  unfortunate  selection.  It  brought  to  his  sad  heart 
cherished  and  touching  memories.  It  was  Mary's  favorite  air,  and 
many  an  hour  he  had  sat  beside  her  listening  to  the  sweet  music 
of  its  variations,  which  she  performed  with  exquisite  taste  and 
skill.  The  lovely  girl,  who  had  risked  so  much  for  him,  to  secure 
whose  happiness  he  felt  no  sacrifice  was  too  great — home,  with 
all  its  tender  associations — came  before  him,  and,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, the  big  tears  would  flow.  He  looked  at  the  delicate  gold  ring, 
the  pledge  of  love.  "  I  will  live  for  her  sake,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  for  her,  the  idol  of  my  heart,  the  light,  the  star  of  my  life,"  and 
he  choked  down  his  emotion,  nerved  his  heart,  and  began  to 
whistle  in  a  lively  manner,  "  Cheer,  boys,  cheer." 

It  was  known  among  the  prisoners  that  they  were  to  leave 


OF  MORGAN  AND   HIS  MEN.  131 

early  the  following  incming  for  Nashville— whether  to  proceed 
from  there  by  boat  or  ruilroad,  they  could  not  learn. 

^'  It  doesn't  matter,  boys,  how  they  start  us  on  our  way  to  Yau- 
keedom.  We'll  never  reach  there.  The  stars  may  fall,  or  the 
Yankee  nation  turn  respectable,  but  never  will  any  of  us  breathe 
the  air  of  their  internal  Northern  slaughter-pens." 

''Hope  you  are  right,  Cal.,"  ejaculated  all  present. 

"  My  head  for  a  football,  if  I  have  not  spoken  truly." 

The  next  day  the  prisoners,  eighty  in  number,  were  sent  to 
Nashville,  there  to  take  boat  for  Cincinnati,  the  rumor  having 
obtained  among  the  enemy  that  Colonel  Morgan  intended  to  release 
his  men  at  all  hazards,  if  sent  by  rail. 


132  KAID8    AND   KOMANCE 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

AN     EPISODE. 

The  operator  sat  in  his  office  silent  and  grura.  He  had  just 
completed  the  forwarding  of  a  dispatch  from  Louisville  to  Nash- 
^  ville,  relative  to  Morgan's  captured  men,  to  the  effect  that  they 
must  be  sent  immediately  to  the  former  city  by  rail.  The  reason 
assigned  was  that  Morgan  could  at  any  time  enter  Nashville,  and, 
with  the  assistance  he  would  there  obtain  from  rebel  sympathizers, 
could  force  the  prison  and  liberate  the  prisoners. 

"Confound  Morgan  and  his  men!''  said  the  operator  to  himself, 
biting  his  lips  in  rage.  "I  wish  the  last  one  of  them  was  at  Old 
Nick  this  very  minute.  They  are  always  doing  some  devilment 
to  make  trouble.  Who  knows  but  what  they  may  pounce  down 
on  me  some  of  these  days,  and  take  me  off  to  some  of  their  cursed 
prisons  ?  Confound  the  whole  batch  of  them,  I  say.  I  wish  I 
had  Morgan  here ;  I'd  soon  put  an  end  to  his  villany — the  cursed 
rebel !" 

Just  at  this  juncture  of  the  soliloquy,  a  horseman  alighted  in 
front  of  the  door,  and,  with  whip  in  hand,  walked  carelessly  in. 
The  surly  operator  scarcely  raised  his  head  to  speak  to  the  in- 
truder, as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  butternut  suit,  all  bespat- 
tered with  mud,  and  the  old^louched  hat  with  rim  partly  torn  offl 
But  the  visitor  was  not  to  he  repulsed  by  this  very  uncivil  recep- 
tion. Stepping  forward  towards  a  vacant  chair,  which  stood  be- 
side the  window  in  the  further  side  of  the  room,  he  seated  himself, 
and  asked  for  the  news. 

"  No  news,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

There  was  a  morning  jQurnal  on  the  desk.  The  stranger 
reached  out  his  hand,  and,  with  the  most  perfect  sangfroid^  took 
the  paper,  and,  opening  it,  commenced  to  read. 

''John  Morgan  at  work  again,"  he  said,  as  he  glanced  down  the 
first  column  ;  "  great  pity  that  man  can't  be  caught — he  plays  the 
wild  with  every  thing." 

At  the  mention  of  Morgan's  name,  the  operator,  as  if  suddenly 
seized  by  his  Satanic  Majesty   himself,  sprang  from   his  chair, 


OF  MORGAN   A^TD   HIS   MEN.  133 

doubled  np  his  fist,  and  then  with  a  sudden  jerk  withdrawing  it 
again,  as  if  practising  the  pugilistic  art  on  some  hapless  victim, 
and  then  thrusting  his  arm  out  at  full  length,  while  his  eyes  darted 
vengeful  fire,  excl.'iiuied  : 

''  Yes,  the  scoundrel,  villain — I  wish  I  had  him  here.  I'd  blow 
his  brains  out,  this  very  moment.  Td  show  him.  Just  let  him 
come  in  reacii  of  me,  and  he'll  soon  get  a  ball  put  through  his 
cursed  body.  No  more  pranks  from  him,  the  mighty  John  Mor- 
gan, I  tell  you  !"  And  tiie  ifffuriated  man  went  through  all  the 
gestures  of  shooting  his  hated  foe. 

"You  wouldn't  kill  him,  would  you?"  asked  the  stranger, 
quietly  looking  up  from  his  paper,  and  lifting  the  torn  brim  of  his 
old  white  hat. 

"Kill  him?  aye,  and  I  would,  sooner  than  I'd  shoot  a  mad  dog. 
I  just  dare  hiin,  at  any  time,  to  cross  that  door,  and  if  he  isn't  a 
dead  man  in  five  minutes,  there's  no  truth  in  me." 

The  stranger  rose,  took  off  his  hat,  and  stood  before  the  blood- 
thirsty operator,  and  with  a  quiet  mien  and  voice  gentle  as  a 
maiden's,  said : 

"  I  am  John  Morgan,  sir ;  execute  your  threat.  Here  is  a 
pistol — you  are  entirely  welcome  to  use  it!" 

As  he  spoke,  he  fixed  his  large,  piercing  eyes  steadfastly  on  the 
operator.  Every  feature  of  that  noble  face  bespoke  daring  and 
defiance. 

"Here  is  a  pistol,  use  it!" 

"  Oh  !  thank  you  ;  I — I — didn't  know— I  hadn't  any  idea — 
that  you  were — Colonel  Morgan,  sir — indeed  I  didn't — beg  pardon, 
sir — so  much  annoyed  to-day — every  thing  gone  topsy-turvy. 
Man  gets  so  fretted — excuse  me — really  didn't  mean  what  I  said — 
wouldn't  have  any  man's  blood  on  my  conscience — oh,  no — re- 
member the  commandment — thousand  pardons,  sir — hope  you'll 
forgive" — and  the  friglitened  man  bowed  himself  quite  back  to  the 
wall,  where  he  stood,  pale  and  trembling. 

"  You  have  my  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Morgan,  in  a  firm,  gentle- 
manly tone.  "Another  time  I  advise  you  to  be  less  boastful  of 
your  courage  and  veracity.  I  have  but  little  time  to  stay.  Seat 
yourself,  and  send  the  messages  that  I  shall  dictate  to  Louisville. 
Make  no  mistake;  if  you  do,  your  life  is  the  forfeit." 

The  bewildered  man,  but  too  glad  to  escape  so  easily,  obeyed 
the  order  of  the  colonel  with  alacrity. 

"I  understand  this  operation,  sir;  don't  you  attempt  to  give 
any  information  but  what  I  instruct  you  to  do." 


134:  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

Had  the  trembling  man  felt  disposed  to  disobey  the  warning, 
the  close  proximity  to  his  head  of  that  formidable  pistol  -would 
have  forever  lulled  all  such  desire. 

"Now,"  said  Colonel  Morgan,  "show  me  all  the  dispatches 
that  have  passed  through  this  office  in  the  last  twenty-four 
hours." 

The  man  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  with  a  most  obsequious  air 
obeyed  the  bidding. 

'•That  will  do,  sir,"  said  Morgan* bowing  politely,  and  bidding 
the  pusillanimous  wretch  "Good-morning,"  Reaching  his  horse, 
he  mounted,  and  rode  a\yay,  leaving  the  confused  operator  dumb 
with  wonder  and  surprise  at  the  strange  and  startling  occurrence. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sabbath  morning  in  May,  1862.  Lovely  as  a 
poet*s  dream  rested  the  flower-mantled  earth  beneath  the  soft 
warm  sunlight.  The  cars,  laden  with  passengers,  were  wending 
their  way  at  full  speed  from  Louisville  to  Bowling  Green.  There 
was  to  be  a  "  Union  mass-meeting"  in  Nashville  the  following 
day,  and  the  zealots  of  Kentucky,  determined  that  it  should  have 
at  least  the  appearance  of  power,  and  its  proceedings  be  noised 
abroad  through  the  land,  had  turned  out  in  numbers  to  attend  it. 
There  were  on  board  politicians,  speculators.  Federal  officers, 
curiosity  seekers,  and  hangers-on,  besides  a  few  private  travellers. 

Prentice,  of  the  "Journal,"  had  fully  purposed  to  be  present, 
but  '•  owing,"  as  one  of  his  friends  said  to  another,  "  to  the 
fuddled  condition  of  his  brain,  he  was  unable  to  make  the  time, 
and  most  unfortunately  for  the  incidents  of  the  day,  was  left  be- 
hind." 

The  whistle  had  sounded,  and  the  train  was  slowly  nearing  the 
depot  at  Ca>ve  City,  when  a  dozen  armed  horsemen  suddenly  ap- 
pearing in  front  of  the  locomotive,  called  out  "  Halt !"  accompany- 
ing the  command  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  a  signal  to  the  engineer 
to  stop. 

This  functionary  appearing  but  little  inclined  to  obey  the  order 
— his  movements  indicating  a  determination  to  proceed — the  com- 
mand was  repeated,  and  at  the  same  moment  about  thirty  other 
horsemen,  armed  to  the  teeth,  dashed  in  view,  and  dozens  of  bul- 
lets shredded  the  air,  whizzing  alarmingly  about  the  ears  of  the 
frantic  passengers. 

"Morgan!  Morgan!"  was  uttered  by  a  dozen  voices.  "Mor- 
gan! Morgan!"  was  caught  up  and  re-echoed  by  all.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  scene  of  the  wildest  confusion,  which  was  at  the  same 
time  both  ludicrous  and  serious. 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS    MEN. 


135 


The  engineer  now  seeing  the  folly  of  attempting  to  proceed, 
quickly  brought  the  cars  to  a  stand-still. 

Some  of  the  liorsemen  immediately  sprang  from  their  saddles 
to  obstruct  tlio  track  with  rails,  lest  he  should  reverse  the  cars, 
and  endeavor  to  return  to  Elizabethtown.  Others  rode  up  to 
the  side  of  the  cars,  and,  with  pistols  presented,  demanded  a  full^ 
surrender  of  all  soldiers  and  freight  belonging  to  the  government. 
Wild  was  the  tumult  among  the  loyal  ladies,  profound  the  panic 
that  had  seized  officers,  politicians,  and  si)eculators.  Each  was 
endeavoring  as  best  he  could  to  secure  his  own  safety  and  interest. 
Private  purses  rapidly  passed  from  the  hands  of  loyal  men  to  those 
of  disloyal  ladies,  in  order  to  preserve  them  from  the  hands  of  the 
rebels. 

Amid  the  fright  and  confusion  Colonel  Morgan  entered  the 
ladies'  car.  As  he  stood  for  a  moment,  every  eye  was  fixed  upon 
him. 

*'  Be  quiet,  ladies,"  said  he,  with  a  pleasant  smile,,  as  their  cries 
of  terror  fell  upon  his  ear.  '•  Be  quiet,  none  of  you  shall  be  hurt, 
I  only  want  the  blue-coated  gentlemen." 

Instantly  there  was  profound  silence.  His  words  acted  like  a 
spell  in  calming  the  tumult. 

He  approached  one  of  the  "  blue-coated  gentry,"  whose  wife  sat 
beside  him. 

"Oh,  spare  ray  husband.  Colonel  Morgan!  Don't  take  him 
from  me,''  screamed  out  the  frightened  wife.  "  For  God's  sake, 
don't  take  him.  Have  mercy— mercy  on  me,  colonel,  and  spare 
him  to  me.  I  appeal  to  you  as  a  gentleman— to  your  clemency— 
your  generosity— your  kindness— for  my  sake,  for  God's  sake,  for 
the  sake  of  mercy,  don't  take  him  away." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  take  your  husband  from  you,  madam,"  he 
replied,  amused  at  the  woman's  importunity.  ''Take  him  your- 
self, and  teach  him  better  behavior  than  to  come  down  here  to 
kill'  Southern  people.     This  is  all  I  ask.     Will  you  promise  me 

this?"  ^    ^    , 

The  grateful  woman,  in  the  joy  of  her  heart,  grasped  the  knees 
of  the  noble  benefactor,  and  thanked  him  in  the  most  passionate 
strains. 

A  low-browed  Dutchman,  who  had  been  a  music  teacher  in 
Lexington,  Kentucky,  but  who  now  enjoyed  the  most  impressive 
sobriquet  of  Major  Helveti,  was  taken  by  some  of  the  Louisville 
boys  from  the  cars,  mounted  upon  a  shabby  trotting  mule,  and 
spirited  away  under  an  escort  in  the  direction  of  Dixie. 


136  KATDS   AND   ROSIANCE 

"  I  have  thirty  thousand  dollars  in  that  safe,"  said  the  cotton 
agent  of  one  of  the  large  firms  in  Louisville,  to  Colonel  Morgan, 
who  was  quietly  examining  Uncle  Sam's  treasures.  ''  It  is  private 
funds,  colonel.  I  hope  it  will  not  be  appropriated.  Here  is  my 
receipt  for  its  deposit  from  the  agent,  colonel." 

''Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  sir,"  was  the  quiet  response, 
while  Colonel  Morgan  continued  his  operations.  "  My  men  are 
not  thieves.  Be  assured,  not  one  cent  of  private  property  shall 
be  touched." 

After  making  such  disposition  of  government  funds  and  stores 
as  he  deemed  proper,  Colonel  Morgan  surrendered  the  cars  to  the 
conductor,  under  strict  orders  to  return  to  Louisville'  without 
attempting  to  proceed  to  Bowling  Green. 

Colonel  Morgan,  with  his  force,  immediately  dashed  down  the 
road  to  the  depot  below,  to  intercept  the  upward  train,  on  board 
of  which  were  his  men,  proceeding  to  Louisville.  Unfortunately 
for  his  plan,  a  courier,  unobserved  by  him,  had  left  the  scene  of 
action  during  the  meUe^  and  reaching  the  nearest  depot  below,  had 
telegraphed  to  the  conductor,  by  all  means,  to  return  to  Nashville, 
as  Morgan  and  his  men  were  awaiting  the  train  to  seize  it. 

Sad  were  the  hearts  of  tlie  prisoners,  as  the  cars  reversed  their 
movement,  and  steamed  back  to  ISTashville.  They  understood  it 
all  in  a  moment,  and  felt  that  all  escape  by  liberation  at  the  hands 
of  their  noble  chief  was  at  an  end.  Their  disappointment  and 
chagrin  were  unspeakable.  There  was  no  hope  left  them  now, 
save  in  their  own  skill  and  management.  But  they  did  not  de- 
spair. They  were  determined  on  one  thing — and  that  was,  come 
life  or  death,  they  would  never  enter  a  Northern  dungeon.  How 
they  succeeded  in  averting  this  detested  fate  remains  to  be  seen. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  13' 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

HOW    THE    PROPOSED    PLAX    SUCCEEDED. 

Plated  out — played  out,  boys!"  said  Charley,  despondinfjly. 
"No  hope  of  rescue  now — jn-ison  or  death — we  must  choose  be- 
tween the  two." 

"There,  Charley,  croaking  again.  Why,  my  boy,  this  is  only 
a  pleasing  variety.  What  is  life  without  diversity?  Come,  ciieer 
up!  be  a  hero — with  a  heart  for  any  fate.  If  Colonel  Morgan 
doesn't  rescue  us,  we'll  rescue  ourselves.     That's  all." 

"  You  are  very  hopeful,  to  be  sure.  You  have  had  no  experience 
in  prison.  Wait  until  you  have  groaned  beneath  their  iron  rule 
for  a  few  months.  Then  we  shall  see  if  you  regard  it  as  a  pleasing 
diversity." 

"  But  there's  no  use  despairing,  even  in  the  face  of  the  most 
unpromising  circumstances.  Be  patient.  My  word  on  it,  Morgan 
will  outwit  these  Yankees  yet.  They  will  not  dare  to  keep  us 
here  in  Nashville.  Why,  they  wouldn't  even  risk  us  in  Louisville. 
Don't  you  know  that  these  cowardly  wretches  believe  that  Mor- 
gan can  do  just  what  he  pleases?  PU  wager  they  are  trembling 
now  for  fear  he  will  rush  upon  them  and  spirit  us  away.  They 
will  never  feel  safe  until  we  are  beyond  the  Ohio  river." 

"But  what  does  all  tliis  argue?  Simply  that  they  won't  im- 
prison us  here."  • 

"And  that  they  will  have  to  ship  us  to  Camp  Chase.  And  yon 
know  it's  a  long  way  from  here  to  Cincinnati,  and  there  will  be 
many  chances  for  us  to  escape.  I,  for  one,  will  never  see  the  in- 
side of  one  of  their  dens,  take  my  word  for  that.  Indeed,  I  have 
a  great  mind  to  dodge  them  right  here  in  Nashville.  But  then, 
it  would  be  so  much  trouble  to  get  out  of  their  lines;  and,  more- 
over, I  shouldn't  like  to  leave  any  of  my  friends  behind  me." 

"They  will  take  us  by  boat  now,  I  suppose,"  said  Charley,  his 
voice  assuming  a  rather  more  cheerful  tone. 

"  Oh,  yes !  that  will  be  their  plan.  They  will  not  try  railroad 
shipment  again,  and  they  won't  dare  to  keep  us  here;  so  you  see 
there  is  no  other  alternative." 


138  RAIDS   AKD  EOMANCE 

The  prisoners  were  marched  from  the  depot,  and  huddled  to- 
gether in  the  close,  damp  jail  for  the  night,  without  supper  and 
without  beds. 

The  next  day  they  were  taken  on  board  a  small  boat,  lying  at 
the  wharf,  to  be  sent  to  Clarksville,  where  they  were  to  be  trans- 
ferred to  a  large  vessel,  and  forwarded  immediately  to  Cincinnati. 

It  was  night — a  soft  May  night.  The  young  moon,  from  amid 
her  throng  of  starry  worshippers,  beamed  tenderly  down  on  the 
sleeping  eaj-th,  w^hich  lay  reposing  in  her  soft,  warm  rays  like  a 
glad  babe  on  its  mother's  loving  bosom.  The  radiant  stars  looked 
down  with  their  spiritual  eyes  from  out  their  far-off  home  in  the 
blue  vault  above.  And  gentle  breezes,  wooed  into  life  by  the 
moon's  soft  kiss,  sported  caressingly  among  the  fragrance-breathing 
flowers. 

It  was  the  hour  of  midnight.  Over  the  still  bosom  of  the  Cum- 
berland, the  cliffs,  with  their  wooded  brows,  threw  a  deep,  dark 
shadow,  here  and  there  lighted  up  by  the  sparkhng  moonbeams 
as  they  stole  through  the  young  and  tender  foliage  of  the  over- 
hanging forests,  and  fell  in  streams  of  silver  sheen  on  the  rippling 
waters. 

No  sound  was  heard,  save  the  low,  irregular  splashing  of  the 
waters,  as  the  wheel  of  the  little  boat  drove  the  tiny  craft  along 
over  the  river's  still,  smooth  bosom. 

"Now  is  our  time,"  said  Morgan,  quickly,  yet  stealthily,  ap- 
proaching the  spot  where  young  Irving  and  Charley  were  stand- 
ing on  the  guard,  looking  over  into  the  river  below. 

"  Pass  the  signal ;  let  each  man  but  do  his  part,  and  we  are  free. 
You  and  Charley  will  attend  to  disarming  the  drunken  guard. 
You,  Irving,  pass  the  word." 

The  signal  was  given.  Quietly,  yet  with  lightning-speed,  the 
prisoners  hastened  to  the  work  assigned  them.  The  oflicers  and 
boat-hands  were  seized,  and  before  they  could  recover  from  their 
consternation,  they  were  bound  and  put  under  guard.  The  sen- 
tinels, overcome  by  too  deep  libations  from  rebel  bottles,  lay  sense- 
less on  the  guards.  To  relieve  them  of  their  arms,  was  but  the 
work  of  a  moment. 

It  was  a  daring  undertaking, — one  that  required  great  tact  and 
adroitness.  But  the  plan  had  been  well  arranged,  and  its  denoue- 
ment  was  eminently  successful.  The  captain  plead  to  be  released, 
offering  to  convey  them  to  any  point  on  the  river,  if  they  would 
only  allow  him  to  keep  his  boat. 

*'0n  these  conditions,"  said  young  Morgan,  "you  must  surren- 


OF  Morgan  and  uis  men.  139 

der  to  US  all  tlie  arms  you  have;  give  us  rations  for  two  days; 
all  the  money  you  liave  in  your  safe ;  then  land  us  above  here,  on 
the  east  bank  of  the  river,  and  we  will  spare  your  life  and  release 
your  boat.  But  as  you  value  your  head,  captain,  don't  you  at- 
tempt to  trick  us  in  any  way.  And  another  thing,  you  must  go 
on  to  Clarksville,  and  remain  there  until  we  shall  have  time  to 
get  beyond  danger.     "Will  you  promise  me  this?" 

The  captain,  but  too  glad  to  save  his  head  on  any  terms,  readily 
assented  to  the  proposition. 

"  Swear  hini,"  said  Irving ;  "  swear  him,  Morgan,  Excuse  me, 
sir,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  captain;  "but  you  Yankess  have 
such  unreliable  memories.  The  penalty  for  perjury  un^er  our 
oath  is  death  at  first  sight.  You'll  remember  ?  Here,  Charley, 
get  out  your  Bible,  and  let  the  captain  take  the  oath  on  that." 

The  little  pocket-book  was  produced,  and  the  captain  duly 
sworn. 

"Now,  go  with  us,  boss,  and  give  directions  to  your  engineer  to 
wheel  about  and  take  us  back  a  few  miles  ;  after  this,  sir,  we  will 
attend  to  the  pantry  and  money-box.  Boys,  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out over  your  prisoners,  and  if  these  drunken  soldiers  dare  to 
move,  just  throw  them  overboard." 

The  necessary  directions  were  given  to  the  engineer.  Tiie  safe 
was  then  visited,  and  relieved  of  its  treasures ;  after  which,  Mor- 
gan, calling  to  his  aid  a  number  of  the  boys,  stormed  the  pantry, 
and  emptied  it  of  its  edibles. 

"  Come,  cook,"  said  he  to  the  mulatto,  who  liad  stood  beside 
him  eyeing  the  movement  with  a  look  of  wonder,  mingled  with 
admiration  ;  "  come,  be  quick,  get  to  work  immediately,  and  fry 
these  steaks  and  this  ham,  and  make  up  all  that  flour  and  meal 
into  bread.  Here,  boys,  you  that  know  how,  fall  to  work  and 
grind  this  coffee,  slice  tlie  light-bread  and  butter  it,  and  roll  up 
sandwiches  for  yourselves — here's  a  nice  cold  ham.  Each  one  take 
as  much  sugar  and  tea  as  he  wants." 

"Come,  steward,  bring  paper  to  these  gentlemen." 

"None  on  board,  sir,  I  believe,"  and  the  darkey  trembled  with 
fri^'ht  at  having  to  disobey  orders. 

''  "Well,  Well,  never  mind.  Get  your  towels  and  tablecloths ; 
no  matter  what,  so  it  will  do  to  wrap  up  victuals  in." 

The  steward  darted  like  lightning,  and  in  a  moment  was  back 
with  the  necessary  articles. 

There  was  a  general  jubilee  on  board  the  boat.  The  boys 
laughed,  and  danced,  and  sung.  They  had  not  had  such  a  merry  time 


140  EAIDS    AND   BOMANCE 

since  the  fated  night  at  Lebanon.  Morgan,  Charley,  and  Irving 
took  the  management  of  affairs  upon  themselves;,  and  superintend- 
ed all  the  preparations.  Every  thing  was  carried  forward  with 
the  greatest  dispatch. 

The  pilot  was  commanded  to  land  them  at  the  first  safe  point 
on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  river.  Just  as  day  was  dawning 
over  the  earth,  the  boat  was  rounded  to,  and  the  boys,  enforcing 
remembrance  of  their  instructions  on  the  captain  and  crew,  equip- 
ped themselves  with  the  few  arms  they  had  obtained,  secured 
their  edibles,  and  with  one  long,  loud,  ringing  shout,  sprang  from 
the  boat,  and  dashed  into  the  woods. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  we  would  out-general  these  Yankees  ?" 
said  young  Morgan  to  Charley,  as  he  stepped  up  to  his  side,  and 
slapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  But  you  wouldn't  believe  me. 
Did  I  not  speak  truly  ?"' 

"You  did.  Your  plan  has  succeeded  well,  and  you  deserve  all 
praise.  "We  are  once  more  free,  thank  God.  Never  let  us  again 
fall  into  the  enemy's  hands." 

*•  Ah,  we  will  never  be  caught  napping  again,  Charley.  Eter- 
nal vigilance  is.  the  price  of  liberty  these  days.  How  would  it  do, 
Irving,  for  us  all  to  vow  that  we  will  never  be  taken  prisoners 
again?     What  say  you,  Charley?" 

"  Amen,  amen  !"  responded  the  two  young  men. 

"  Come  to  a  halt,  Morgan,"  said  Charley,  "  and  let  us  all  swear 
that  the  Yankees  shall  never  again  claim  us  as  captives." 

The  column  was  halted,  the  proposition  submitted  to  the  men, 
which  was  received  with  loud  and  protracted  cheers,  throughout 
the  whole  line. 

The  oath  was  administered,  Irv/ing  holding  up  the  small  pocket- 
Bible,  upon  which  each  man  was  commanded  to  look,  while  he  re- 
peated the  form  of  words  after  young  Morgan. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  breakfast  now,  boys,  and  a  division  of  our 
money  ?  Come  forward,  treasurer,  and  disburse  your  funds  per 
capital 

A  young  man  stepped  forward  from  the  ranks,  and  drew  forth 
from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  notes. 

"Two  hundred  and  forty  dollars — ^jnst  three  dollars  apiece. 
Come  forward,  boys,  and  each  one  receive  his  quota." 

A  council  of  war  was  then  called  to  decide  whether  the  com- 
pany should  divide  into  squads,  and  thus  endeavor  to  make  their 
way  to  Colonel  Morgan,  or  should,  en  masse^  proceed  to  join  him. 

The  subject  was  gravely  discussed,  pro  and  cob. 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  141 

"  Most  of  us  know  every  mile  of  this  country,"  said  Irving,  the 
chief  speaker.  ''We  Lave  travelled  over  it  often.  It  is  inhabited 
only  by  friends.  "We  liave  provisions  enough  to  last  us  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  if  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  we  shall  find  it 
expedient,  in  order  to  procure  food,  to  divide  out,  we  can  do  so." 

"  But  perhaps  we  shall  encounter  the  Feds,"  suggested  the 
treasurer,  "and  we  have  not  arms  enough  to  defend  ourselves." 

"That  is  not  at  all  probable,  Carter.  There  are  no  Yankees  in 
this  section.  You  know  that  we  have  kept  them  too  badly  scared 
to  venture  out  in  small  squads,  and  if  they  have  thrown  a  large 
force  anywhere  near,  we  will  soon  learn  it.  Let  us  send  out  an 
advance  whose  duty  it  will  be  to  apprise  us  of  any  danger  ahead." 

''Boys,  all  in  favor  of  moving  on  together,  call  out  aye,"  said 
he,  leaving  it  to  the  decision  of  a  vote. 

"  Aye,"  rang  out  from  every  man. 

About  an  hour  was  spent  in  eating  breakfast,  which  was  greatly 
enlivened  by  the  recital  of  many  a  laughable  incident  that  occurred 
while  taking  possession  of  the  boat.  The  old  woods  were  reso- 
nant with  their  mirth  and  hilarity,  as  they  ate  of  their  fried  ham 
and  steaks,  with  the  buttered  light-bread  and  fresh  biscuits.  It 
was  far  superior  fare  to  any  they  had  enjoyed  in  a  long  while,  and 
their  heightened  appetite  did  ample  justice  to  its  acknowledged 
merits. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Irving,  rising,  and  depositing  the  remainder 
of  his  roll  in  his  pocket,  "  if  we  are  through  with  breakfast,  we'll 
take  up  our  line  of  march.  Our  course  is  southeast.  The  Cum- 
berland may  give  us  some  trouble,  but  we  will  find  friends  who 
will  assist  us,  and  we  shall  soon  make  our  way  to  Morgan.  Three 
cheers  for  our  colonel,  boys!"  and  the  speaker  flourished  his  old 
white  hat  vigorously  around  his  head.  The  example  was  followed 
by  every  man,  and  loud  and  lusty  cheers  went  up  from  the  mov- 
ing column,  which  were  echoed  and  re-echoed  among  the  leafy 
recesses  of  the  forest  until  they  gradually  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance. 


142  RAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

FINDING    MORGAN. 

The  party  travelled  a  day  and  a  half  before  tliey  could  obtain 
any  reliable  intelligence  of  Colonel  Morgan's  whereabouts.  They 
were  then  informed  that  he  had  a  few  days  before  passed  within 
twenty  miles  of  Carthage,  going  north.  They  could  not  learn 
whether  he  was  accompanied  by  his  whole  force  or  not.  The  ru- 
mors were  conflicting.  One  story  said  that  he  had  certainly  gone 
to  Gallatin ;  another,  that  he  had  undoubtedly  proceeded  to  Ken- 
tucky. 

"If  we  cannot  overtake  Colonel  Morgan,"  said  Irving,  after 
listening  to  the  various  contradictory  rumors  that  met  them  on 
every  side,  "  we  must  go  where  he  can  find  us.  Our  present  busi- 
ness is  to  get  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Federals.  We  can  then 
w^ait  until  we  can  ascertain  where  he  is.  This  done,  our  troubles 
are  at  an  end." 

They  marched  on  for  two  successive  days.  No  certain  intelli- 
gence of  Morgan  could  be  gained.  Hearing  of  no  enemy  in  that 
portion  of  the  State,  they  decided  to  halt  and  establish  a  camp. 
A  fine  position  was  selected  for  this  purpose  in  a  skirt  of  woods, 
bounded  by  a  beautiful  stream.  They  purchased  such  necessary 
articles  a^  their  hmited  means  would  allow\  The  people  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  encampment  generously  assisted  them  with 
provisions  and  blankets.  After  remaining  a  few  days  here,  and 
ascertaining  nothing  of  Colonel  Morgan,  it  was  proposed  to  pro- 
cure some  horses,  and  start  a  party  in  search  of  him.  The  propo- 
sition was  favorably  received  by  the  whole  encampment,  and 
Irving,  Charley,  young  Curd,  and  Johnson  were  selected  to  go, — 
Morgan  remaining  behind  to  look  after  the  camp.  He  had  already 
become  quite  popular  in  the  neighborhood,  partly  because  he  was 
a  brother  of  the  favorite  hero  of  the  West,  but  quite  as  much  on 
account  of  his  agreeable  manner  and  daring  spirit.  The  project 
was  made  known  to  a  few  of  the  farmers,  who  readily  furnished 
horses  and  every  thing  necessary  for  their  equipment.  The  outfit 
was  complete,  and  the  four  set  forward  on  their  search,  under 


OF    MORGAN    AND   HIS    MEN. 


143 


the  direction  they  had  received.  After  a  day'8  travel  northward, 
they  obtained  sucli  intelligence  of  Colonel  Morgan^s  recent  move- 
ments as  they  could  credit.  Two  days  more,  and  tiiey  had  reach- 
ed his  camp.  ,  tt  i  i 
Information  was  given  him  of  all  that  had  occurred.  He  had 
heard,  while  passing  through  the  country  from  Cave  City  to  his 
headquarters  via  Knoxville,  that  his  men  had  escaped.  Immedi- 
ately he  turned  about,  and  sent  up  into  the  region  of  Clarksville, 
for  the  purpose  of  rendering  them  assistance  ;  but  he  was  too  late, 
and  learned  on  reaching  there  that  they  had  set  out  on  foot  to 
overtake  him.  He  dispatched  Irving,  Curd,  and  others  back  to 
the  camp  for  their  comrades,  with  instructions  for  as  many  as 
could  to  join  him  immediately. 


114  EAIDS   AXD   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    DARK    SHADOW. 

The  morn'mg  after  the  men  reached  Colonel  Morgan's  encamp- 
ment, Charley  was  very  leisurely  sauntering  around  ohjectles?, 
further  than  to  indulge  his  general  habit  of  activity,  when,  in  pass- 
ing near  a  clump  of  undergrowth  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp, 
his  attention  was  arrested  by  the  earnest  voice  of  some  one  who 
seemed  to  be  reading.  As  he  neared  the  spot  from  whence  the 
sound  proceeded,  he  heard  the  speaker  pronounce  the  name  of 
Mary  Lawrence.  Suddenly  he  paused,  as  if  transfixed  to  the  spot. 
The  blood  mounted  to  his  temples — his  heart  be§,t  audibly — his 
frame  grew  rigid  under  the  power  of  his  strong  emotion.  A 
moment  more,  and  the  name  of  Arthur  Morton  reached  his  ear, 
and  then  the  words  "Federal  officer,"  and  "undivided  attention." 

As  one  who  is  suddenly  seized  by  some  demoniac  passion,  he 
exclaimed,  "Oh,  my  God!"  and  sprang  forward.  Then,  as  if  im- 
pelled by  the  magic  of  an  invisible  power,  he  paused  and  strained 
his  ears  to  listen.  It  was  the  voice  of  young  Brent,  who  was  evi- 
dently reading  a  letter  from  some  friend  in  Louisville. 

As  Charley  stood  breathless — trembling  in  every  nerve,  his 
hands  clenched  in  the  agony  of  dreadful  apprehension,  w^hile  his 
face,  which  for  a  moment  before  was  crimson,  was  now  livid  as 
death,  his  bloodless  lips  apart  as  one  who  listens  with  his  soul  as 
well  as  ears — these  maddening  words  were  plainly  heard :  "Rumor 
says  they  are  to  be  married.  I  do  not  myself  know,  for  I  have 
not  seen  Mary  in  many  weeks." 

He  could  bear  no  more.  Frenzied,  he  turned  and  rushed 
away,  walking  as  if  pursued  by  a  demon. 

"  Where  on  earth  are  you  going,  at  that  break-neck  speed,  Char- 
ley ?"  hallooed  young  Lawrence  to  him.  as  with  great  strides  he 
pushed  by  the  spot  where  a  group  had  gathered  around  Captain 
Hawkins  to  hear  him  read  a  Louisville  Journal^  which  had  found 
its  way  into  the  camp. 

Charley  paused,  and  looked  wildly  around. 

"  Come  here,  Charley,"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices.  "  Come,  and 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  145 

hear,"  added  yoilng  Lawrence,  "  what  old  Prentice  says  about  our 
capture  at  Lebanon,  lie  gloats  over  the  idea  of  our  surprise  and 
imprisonment.  Little  does  the  old  wretch  think  we  are  iiere  free 
as  air,  laughing  over  his  fiendishness." 

Charley,  as  if  incapable  of  exercising  his  own  will,  obeyed  the 
summons,  but  it  was  as  one  who  acts  devoid  of  thougiit  and  object. 

He  took  his  place  amid  the  group,  li»;tless ;  as  one  in  a  strange, 
wild  dream,  he  st(K>d,  his  eyes  gazing  out  into  vacuity — his  face 
wearing  that  peculiarly  sad  expression  which  results  from  sudden 
grief;  while  his  heart — ah,  how  can  we  describe  its  tumultuous 
lieavings ! 

"Look,  boys,  Charley  lives  the  whole  scene  over  again!"  ex- 
claiiued  young  Morgan.  "  He  is  even  now,  in  thought  and  feeling, 
th^  inmate  of  a  Yankee  prison.  Indeed,  Charley,  my  friend,  you 
do  not  regard  yourself  safe  from  the  clutches  of  the  villains,  do 
you*"  and  Morgan  ^lapped  him  on  the  shoulder  pleasantly.  Come, 
tlii.*  won't,  do.  You  are  as  free  as  the  bird  of  tiie  wild  wood — as 
safe,  Charley,  as  though  all  the  Yankees  had  been  ferried  over 
Styx  by  the  good  Charon,  who  of  late  must  have  been  kept  very 
busy  at  his  work."  • 

''  No,  no,  Cal.,  I  have  no  fear  of  the  Yankees.  I  have  seen  them 
too  often,  and  am  too  familiar  with  their  face,"  responded  Char- 
ley, endeavoring  to  assume  an  air  of  cheerfulness. 

"Then  why  so  melancholic?  Disapi)oiuted  that  you  did  not  get 
a  letter  from  home,  eh  ?" 

"Yes,  partly  that;  and  partly  indisposition." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  get  sick,  Charley,"  interposed  young  Law- 
rence.    "  We  are  going  to  make  Louisville  a  visit  soon." 

"Just  at  this  point  in  the  conversation.  Captain  Hawkins,  who 
had  been  silently  scanning  the  paper,  read  aloud  one  of  Prentice's 
witticisms,  which  caused  them  all  to  break  out  in  a  fit  of  the  most 
uproarious  laughter. 

Charley  essayed  to  join  them;  out  what  a  mockery  to  laugh, 
when  the  heart  is  breaking !  His  effort  was  fruitless — only  a  wan, 
ghastly  smile  was  the  resvilt. 

Attracted  by  the  shouting.  Brent  and  his  cousin,  young  Arnold, 
to  whom  he  had  been  reading  his  letter,  came  rushing  to  the 
group.  Brent  holding  the  yet  open  letter  in  his  hand. 

As  Charley  looked  towards  the  young  men,  who  were  advancing 
at  full  speed,  crying  out.  "What's  the  joke?  what's  the  joke?  Do 
let  us  share  it?"  he  perceived  the  unfolded  sheet.  His  first  im- 
pulse was  to  meet  Brent,  and  ask  him  to  permit  him  to  read  his 

V 


146  EAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

letter.  But  this  would  necessarily  involve  the  betrayal  of  his 
secret,  and,  restraining  himself,  he  simply  said  to  young  Brent,  in 
passing,  ''One  of  Prentice's  lucky  hits,  that's  all,"  and  walked  on 
in  the  direction  of  the  woodland  wliich  flanked  the  encampment. 

Seeking  its  cool  recesses,  he  seated  himself  upon  an  old  log, 
around  which  the  mushrooms  had  thickly  grown,  and  burying  his 
face  in  his  hands,  gave  himself  up  to  the  tortures  of  the  demon 
jealousy.  And  who  that  has  felt  his  wasting  tires,  consuming,  as 
it  were,  the  very  life  of  the  soul,  but  can  exclaim,  "Death,  death, 
give  me  death !"  So  felt  Charley.  The  world  to  liim  was  one 
wide-spread  void,  over  which  rested  the  blackness  of  darkness. 
Despair,  deep,  fearful,  had  unfolded  her  sombrous  wings  over  his 
heart,  shutting  out  all  hope — all  joy.  Gladly  would  he  have  lost 
his  weary  weight  of  anguish  in  that  long  sleep  where  dreams  flo 
never  come.  He  prayed  for  the  fierce  conflict,  that  he  might  yield 
Tip  that  life  which  in  a  few  short  hours  had  become  to  him  only  a 
meaningless  existence. 

There  are  moments  in  life  when  the  soul,  bowed  down  beneath 
its  weight  of  disappointment  and  despondence,  fearfully  strives  to 
discern  one  gleam  of  hope,  to  find  one  promise  of  good,  in  all  the 
vast  universe  spread  out  so  inimitably  around  it.  It  turns  to 
present,  past,  and  future — but  ah,  how  vainly!  and  the  recoil  upon 
itself  is  but  the  mightier  for  the  effort  made. 

In  such  moments,  did  the  will  but  control  the  pulsations  of  the 
heart,  what  an  array  of  self-murderers  would  stand  in  the  last 
day  before  the  final  tribunal ! 

After  remaining  in  this  frenzied  frame  of  raind,  more  intolerable 
than  that  which  prompted  the  beautiful  priestess  of  Venus  to 
throw  herself  into  the  deep,  dark  sea,  our  hero  arose,  determined 
to  seek  out  young  Brent,  obtain  the  letter,  and  if  it  confirmed  his 
fearful  apprehensions,  to  procure  a  furlough  and  leave  immediately 
for  Kentucky,  and  if  his  troth  had  been  betrayed,  to  wipe  out  the 
wrong  in  the  blood  of  the  hated  rival. 

He  sought  the  camp.  But,  as  he  bent  his  steps  thitherward, 
his  resolution  began  to  falter.  He  could  not  make  known  the 
secret  of  his  love  to  another;  and  how  could  the  letter  be  pro- 
cured without  an  explanation  that  must  necessarily  lead  to  dis- 
closure on  this  point?  He  racked  his  brain  for  a  plan,  but  the 
knot  could  not  be  untied — he  had  not  determination  to  cut  it 
asunder.  So,  avoiding  young  Brent,  whom  he  met  midway  the 
inclosure,  he  turned  aside  with  agitated  look,  and  passed  on  with 
rapid  pace  towards  his  own  tent. 


OF  MORGAN   AXD  HIS   MEiN".  147 

The  evening  and  night  were  passed  amid  tlie  tortures  of  jealousy 
and  despair.  Sleep  visited  not  the  restless,  tossing  frame,  and  the 
aching  brain,  racked  with  fearful  thought,  throbbed  wildly,  while 
tlie  blood-sliot  eyes  looked  out  into  the  gloom  of  the  rayless  tent 
strainingly,  as  if  the  sinking  soul  sought  to  catch  some  ray  of  hope 
from  the  outer  world.  It  was  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  be- 
fore that  exhaustii)n  consequent  upon  i^uch  intense  and  continued 
excitement  of  mind  induced  a  fitful,  feverish  slumber;  and  this  un- 
satisfying rest  was  haunted  by  fearful  dreams,  wherein  specters  of 
frightful  form  and  fiercest  mien  unrelentingly  pursued  him  through 
all  the  winding  way,  from  whicii  he  saw  on  way  of  escape.  He 
awoke  to  a  realization  of  his  wretchedness,  and,  springing  to  his 
feet,  rushed  frantically  into  the  open  air,  and  paced  back  and  forth 
before  his  tent,  goaded  on  by  the  increasing  intensity  of  his  emotion. 
The  morning  came,  but  morning  brought  no  relief.  Pale  and 
dejected,  he  pursued  his  walk. 

"Why,  Charley,  you  look  sick  to-day!"  exclaimed  his  mess- 
mates, as  he  seated  himself  to  attempt  a  breakfast.  He  made  no 
reply,  but,  sipping  his  coffee  listlessly,  and  scarcely  partaking  of 
the  bread  and  fried  ham  before  bim,  he  sat  silently  brooding  over 
Lis  grief. 

'^  Why,  Charley,  my  friend,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  re- 
marked young  Lawrence,  wfth  manifest  astonishment,  as  returning 
from  guard  he  seated  himself  at  the  mess-table.  "  You  look  as  i'f 
the  Furies  had  been  tormenting  you.  Are  you  suffering  from  the 
scorpion  whip  of  conscience  for  not  going  to  ciiurch  yesterday?" 

"I  slept  but  badly  last  niglit,  and  this  morning  my  head  aches 
violently.  Altogether,  I  am  not  well,"  replied  our  hero,  endeavor- 
ing to  rally  himself,  so  as  to  avoid  renewed  inquiry  and  remark; 
but  the  effort  was  futile— the  smile  too  painfully  sad. 

"Oh,  indeed,  you  must  rally.  It  will  not  do  to  get  sick  now. 
Eumor  says  we  go  into  Kentucky  in  a  few  days.  Come,  let's  go 
and  see  some  pretty  girls  to-day ;  that  is,  if  we  get  permission. 
A  sweet  face  is  always  a  sovereign  catholicon  for  the  blues.  Come, 
what  say  you?  I  saw  several  interesting  demoiselles  yesterday 
at  the  old  country  church,  and  two  of  them  live  near  here. 
Hughes,  there,  fell  in  love  with  one,  and  Brent  with  the  other." 

"Not  in  love  at  all,  Charley.  Lawrence  is  exaggerating.  We 
admired  the  young  ladies  ;  they  were  quite  beautiful,  I  assure  you ; 
bu^  for  me,  I  must  wed  a  Kentucky  girl,  or  die  a  Benedict." 

"You  are  right,  Hughes;  I  say  so  too.  A  Kentucky  girl  for 
me.     They  are  the  fairest  and  best  of  all  earth's  daughters,  and 


148  EAIDS    AND   EOMANCE 

oue  of  them  for  me  or  none,"  exclaimed  Brent,  accompanying  the 
remark  with  a  very  enthusiastic  gesticulation,  which  upset  the  cup 
of  hot  coffee  on  his  knee,  and  imminently  endangered  the  break- 
fast table,  which  was  a  camp-stool;  and  notwithstanding  it  boasted 
of  four  legs,  instead  of  three,  they  were  so  unsteady  as  to  jeopard- 
ize its  uprightness  under  a  sudden  smart  blow. 

The  boys  roared  with  laughter  at  poor  Brent's  plight,  which  was 
really  not  enviable,  as  the  hot  coffee  was  by  no  means  a  pleasant 
douche.  Charley  joined  in  the  merriment,  for  a  moment  forgetting 
his  woe,  but  it  was  like  the  fitful  gleam  of  sunlight  bursting 
through  the  slightly  riven  cloud. 

"Irving,"  said  Charley  to  his  friend,  as  soon  as  he  could  meet 
him  after  breakfast,  "I  wish  you  to  take  a  walk  with  me;  I  have 
something  to  tell  you." 

"  I  hope  y(ju  are  not  in  trouble,  Charley,  though  one  to  see  you 
would  imagine  you  had  again  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Yankees, 
you'look  so  grief-stricken.  I  will  walk  with  you  in  a  few  minutes, 
iust  as  soon  as  I  can  deliver  this  note  to  Major  Duke.  Wait  here," 
and  Irving  passed  rapidly  on,  and  in  a  very  short  time  returned 
to  rejoin  Charley.  The  two  walked  towards  the  dense  woodland 
which  flanked  the  rear  of  the  encampment.  Seated  on  the  old  log, 
around  which  the  mushrooms  had  gathered,  with  the  sweet  music 
of  spring-birds  gushing  out  from  amid  the  dense  overhanging  foli- 
age, Charley  unbosomed  his  grief  to  his  friend. 

"I  trust  you,  Irving,  because  I  feel  I  can  rely  on  your  sympa- 
thy and  finesse.  I  must  obtain  that  letter  from  Brent,  at  all  haz- 
ard. Would  you  undertake  to  procure  it  for  me,  pledging  me  to 
keep  my  secret  most  fiducially?" 

"I  think  so.  Trust  me,  I  will  not  betray  you.  If  possible-,  I 
will  secure  the  letter  this  evening.  Join  me  about  four  o'clock, 
and  we  will  together  find  Brent;  and  if  I  succeed  in  my  purpose, 
you  can  either  read  it,  or  hear  it  read." 

The  two  parted ; — Charley  to  attend  to  his  daily  duties,  and  find, 
as  best  he  might,  relief  from  his  goading  grief;  while  Irving,  who 
had  been  intrusted  Avith  the  secret  of  the  expedition  so  soon  to  be 
undertaken,  was  busily  engaged  in  such  preparations  as  were  necejs- 
sary  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  the  commands  of  the  morning. 

Punctually,  at  the  designated  hour,  Charley  sought  Irving.  He 
found  him  earnestly  engaged  in  a  conversation  with  Hawkins,  one 
of  the  command  upon  whom  Colonel  Morgan  greatly  relied  in  all 
matters  that  req'ui red  energy  and  tact. 

Pausing  beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree  against  which  he  leaned 


OF   MORGAN    ANT>   HIS   MEN.  149 

with  the  air  of  one  aweary,  Charley  awaited  his  friend.  A  few 
minutes,  and  he  was  by  his  side,  and  the  two  set  out  to  overtake 
Brent.  Their  search  was  for  some  time  unrewarded.  At  leiigtli 
he  was  seen  with  Lawrence  and  Hughes,  emerging  from  the  lane 
which  led  from  the  encampment  into  the  main  road. 

''We  are  just  from  seeing  the* young  ladies  with  whom  these 
gallants  fell  in  love  yesterday,"  said  Lawrence  to  Cliarley,  as  the 
two  met,  ''  and  I  do  wish  you  could  have  been  there  to  have  wit- 
nessed the  gaucherie  of  these  noble  Kentuckians.  It  would  have 
cured  you  of  your  blues  eternally.  It  was  serio-comic,  I  assure  you." 

"J^o  such  thing,  boys;  Lawrence  is  exaggerating  the  whole 
affair.  "We  conducted  ourselves  right  nobly,  like  gentlemen  to  the 
manor  born.     Didn't  we,  Hughes  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly.  Lawrence  embarrassed  us  by  telling  the  ladies 
we  had  fallen  most  deeply  in  love  with  them  at  first  sight,  and 
W(;uld  not  wait  longer  than  to-day  to  make  a  call,  when  really,  as 
you  know,  Charley,  we  went  at  his  most  earnest  persuasion. 
Didn't  Brent  and  I  declare  this  morning  that  none  but  a  daughter 
of  Kentucky  should  capture  us?" 

"Oh,  that  vow,  like  woman's,  'was  traced  in  sand.'  Charley,  you 
and  Irvingwould  so  decide,  could  you  have  but  seen  the  earnest,  lov- 
ing looks,  and  heard  the  soft,  tender  words  which  were  inflicted  upon 
those  two  beautiful  Tennessee  damsels,  by  these  amorous  swains." 

"Come,  Brent,"  said  Irving,  taking  him  by  the  arm,  and  lead- 
ing him  off,  "  come  with  me.  You  must  make  confession.  I 
chance  to  know,  gentlemen,  something  of  this  gallant  knight's  lady 
love,"  said  Irving,  looking  back  over  his  shoulder,  and  addressing 
the  trio,  now  heartily  laughing  at  something  said  by  Lawrence. 

"  Your  company,  boys,  if  you  please,"  and  Charley  left  Hughes  and 
Lawrence,  and  hastened  to  follow  Irving  and  Brent,  who  were  seek- 
ing a  rude  seat  which  the  boys  had  constructed  beneath  a  large  oak 
tree,  and  to  which  they  had  given  the  name  of  ATy  Lady's  Bower. 

"  Is  she  your  sweetheart  ?"  were  the  words  that  met  Charley, 
as  he  found  himself  beside  Irving.  It  was  an  inquiry  of  surprise 
from  Brent. 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  the  young  man  ;  '*not  exactly  a  sweetheart, 
but  a  young  lady  in  whom,  from  ray  first  acquaintance,  I  have 
felt  a  deep  interest.  I  knew  her  in  Lexington,  and  she  is  the 
sweetheart  of  one  of  my  particular  friends." 

"Is  Morton,  of  Louisville,  a  friend  of  yours,  Irving?  Do  you 
know  he  is  now  in  the  Federal  army  ?  He  and  Aliss  Lawrence  are 
to  be  married  soon." 


150  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

''Married  to  young  Morton,  Brent!  That  cannot  be.  She  is, 
undoubtedly,  engaged  to  a  young  friend  of  mine.  There  must  be 
some  mistake.  Wljere  did  you  get  your  information  ?  Sarely,  it 
can  be  nothing  more  tlian  rumor." 

During  this  conversation,  Ciiarley's  face  was  flushed  almost  to 
crimson.     His  pulse  throbbed  violently. 

''Oh,  no;  it  is  not  mere  rumor.  A  letter  just  received  from 
my  sister  in  Louisville,  says  the  marriage  is  certainly  to  take  place." 

Charley  clutched  young  Irving's  arm  convulsively. 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  statement,  Brent.  As  you  may  well 
conceive,  I  feel  a  deep  interest  for  this  friend  of  mine,  who  I  know 
to  have  acted  honorably  and  sincerely  throughout.  Would  there 
be  any  impropriety  in  my  reading  here  in  the  presence  of  our  friend, 
Charley,  as  much  of  tlie  letter  as  is  pertinent  to  the  subject  1" 

"  None  in  the  world.  I  will  step  to  the  tent  and  get  the  letter. 
You  and  Charley  remain  here." 

Charley  had  scarcely  time  to  request  his  friend  to  read  the 
paragraph  carefully  and  a  second  time,  before  Brent  returned  and 
handed  him  the  letter,  pointing  out  the  fearful  passage.  Irving 
took  it,  read  it  slowly  to  himself,  and,  shaking  his  head  rather 
ominously,  began  to  read  aloud  : 

''Oh,  I  had  almost  neglected  to  mention,"  the  young  girl  wrote 
to  her  brother,  "  the  strangest  item  of  news,  and  one  that  creates 
the  greatest  sensation  among  our  young  friends.  It  is  said,  and 
generally  believed,  that  Mary  Lawrence  and  Fred.  Morton  are  to 
be  married  very  soon.  Lizzie  Hutton  told  me  yesterday  there  was 
no  doubt  of  it.  And  you  know  Mary  and  Lizzie  are  old  friends. 
Yet  I  scarcely  know  how  to  credit  the  statement,  I  have  so  often 
heard  Mary  declare  she  would  not  marry  a  Union  man,  if  her 
life  depended  upon  it.  And  Fred.  Morton  is  now  a  Federal  officer, 
dressed  in  his  uniform.  I  met  him  on  the  street  this  morning. 
"We  passed  without  speaking.  You  know  I  have  no  admiration 
for  blue-coats,  and  so  I  dropped  my  veil  as  I  approached  him.  I 
do  not  think  he  recognized  me.  I  have  not  seen  Mary  myself  for 
weeks.  I  have  been  out  at  sister  Sue's  for  a  long  time,  and  have 
not,  indeed,  seen  any  of  my  friends.  I  shall  go  round  this  even- 
ing, and  if  there  is  any  truth  in  the  report,  Mary  will  surely  tell 
me.  I  cannot  believe  it  unless  she  informs  me  of  it  herself,  even 
if  rumor  does  say  it's  a  certainty." 

Irving  folded  the  letter  and  returned  it  to  Brent,  remarking,  "  I 
do  not  understand  this,  surely  there  must  be  an  error  somewhere.'' 
Charley  rose  and  walked  away. 


OF  MOEGAI?^   AlsD   HIS  MEN.  151 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 

IS    SHE    FAITHLESS? 

Before  a  large  mirror,  which  reached  from  ceiling  to  floor, 
Mary  Lawrence  stood,  while  her  maid  fastened  the  last  white 
rose-bud  amid  the  rich  auburn  curls. 

A  perfect  picture  of  loveliness  was  she  as  she  stood  there,  array- 
ed in  that  soft  white  silk  muslin,  threaded  with  silver,  fitting  so 
recherche  her  exquisitely  moulded  figure ;  while  the  elegant  point- 
lace  herthe^  with  its  sprigs  d'argent^  the  late  gift  of  the  fond 
mother,  graced  so  charmingly  the  full  drooping  shoulders,  and  fell 
in  gauzy  softness  over  the  rounded  arms,  which  Avere  encircled  by 
a  pair  of  bracelets,  carbuncles  set  with  pearls.  A  sash  of  white, 
spotted  with  silver,  to  correspond  with  dress  and  hertlie,  was  fas- 
tened round  the  delicate  waist  by  a  simple  naud  to  the  left.  A 
pair  of  white  kid  gloves,  perfectly  fitting  the  small  plump  hand, 
and  a  costly  pearl  fan,  completed  the  toilet.  A  few  half-blown 
rose-buds  looked  out  from  the  rich  luxuriance  of  the  lustrous  curls. 
The  last  bud  was  secured  by  the  hand  of  the  admiring  waiting- 
maid,  who  stood  motionless,  gazing  on  the  angelic  vision  before 
her.  Mary  took  a  survey  of  herself.  The  blood  rushed  to  the 
roots  of  the  soft,  dark  hair.  She  threw  herself  on  the  sofa,  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands, 

''  Oh,  indeed,  Miss  Mary,  you'll  mash  your  dress  and  all,  all  to 
pieces,"  ejaculated  the  maid,  with  a  look  of  horror.  Do  get  up, 
and  let  me  straighten  it  for  you."' 

The  young  girl  heeded  not  the  request,  but  sat  still  as  death,  her 
head  bowed  in  her  hands. 

The  door- bell  rang.     Mary  sprang  to  her  feet. 

^'Go,  Maria,  see  who  it  is,"  she  said,  nervously,  to  the  girl,  who 
stood  gazing  upon  her  with  astonishment. 

''It  is  Captain  Morton,  I'm  sure,  Miss  Mary.  See,  it  is  nine 
o'clock.     You  know  he  was  to  be  for  you  at  that  hour." 

''Go,  Maria,"  and  she  waved  the  servant  to  the  door,  who,  with 
a  feeling  of  curious  wonder  at  her  young  mistress's  strange  mau- 


152  KAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

ner,  descended  the  hall  stairway,  and,  opening  the  front  door,  ush- 
ered the  Federal  officer  into  the  parlor. 

"With  rapid  step  Mary  paced  the  floor  for  a  few  moments,  her 
agitation  constantly  increasing.  Thee,  leaning  her  elbow  on  the 
dressing-stand,  she  toyed  with  the  exquisite  bouquet  which  stood 
in  the  vase  before  her,  and  which  Captain  Morton  had  sent  with 
compliments  but  a  few  hours  before. 

Maria  returned,  and  announced  Captain  Morton. 

Murmuring  some  indistinct  words  to  herself,  while  the  color 
deepened  in  her  cheek,  Mary  seized  the  fan  from  the  stand,  cast  a 
hasty  glance  into  the  mirror,  and  beckoning  to  Maria,  who  stood 
holding  her  nubia,  to  follow  her,  with  trembling  she  sought  her 
mother's  room. 

Bending  over  the  couch  of  the  pale  invalid,  she  printed  an  affec- 
tionate kiss  on  the  wan  cheek. 

"  You  look  worried  to-night,  my  daughter.  What  is  the  matter 
with  you?"  asked  the  anxious  parent,  in  a  soft,  tender  tone. 
"  Your  face  is  flushed  and  feverish." 

"  Oh,  nothing,  mother,"  replied  the  young  girl.  "  Only  excite- 
ment." And  stooping  over  the  low  couch,  she  kissed  her  mother 
a  second  time,  and  passed  to  the  parlor. 

"God  shield  my  child!"  murmured  the  mother,  earnestly,  as 
the  form  of  her  only,  her  darling  daughter  disappeared  through 
the  door.  Then  clasping  her  hands,  the  mother  offered  up  for  her 
child's  safety  such  a  prayer  as  only  the  heart  of  a  mother  could 
give  utterance  to. 

"With  a  sweet,  affable  smile,  Mary  bade  the  young  captain  good- 
evening,  which  was  returned  by  him  with  a  most  gracious  air. 
He  was  charmed  to  see  her  looking  so  beautiful,  and  he  stood 
gazing  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  fond  delight. 

He  observed  she  did  not  wear  the  flowers  he  had  sent  her.  For 
a  minute  he  felt  chagrined,  but  in  a  moment  the  thought  occurred 
to  him,  she  regards  them  too  highly  to  w^aste  them  on  this  evening. 
She  keeps  them  in  her  room,  that  she  may  enjoy  them.  His  ri>ing 
fears  were  subdued,  his  self-conceit  highly  flattered. 

"  You  are  appearing  most  charmingly  to-night.  Miss  Mary.  Your 
color  is  unusually  beautiful.  Nature's  own  cosmetic.  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  be  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  and  I  the  envied  of  all 
the  beaux.  The  party  is  to  be  one  of  the  largest  ones  we  have 
had  in  the  city  since  the  war  began  ;  indeed,  I  doubt  whether  we 
have  ever  had  any  thing  that  will  excel  it.  The  most  costly  and 
extensive  preparations  have  been  made,  and  all  the  elite  are  in- 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MKN.  153 

vited.  ''It  is  ratlier  strange,  is  it  not,  that  one  who  is  generally 
known  as  a  Southern  man,  should  have  invited  so  many  of  us 
olticers  ?     Almost  every  one  I  have  seen  is  expected  to  attend." 

"Indeed!  I  had  scarcely  supposed  this  would  be  so.  But  then, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  II.  lovo  popularity.  They  would  sacrifice  a  great 
deal  to  secure  it.  And  they  have  succeeded  well.  Their  names 
are  on  the  lips  of  both  parties.  Everybody  speaks  approvingly  of 
them,  as  generous,  affable,  polite.     And  yet,  I  doubt — " 

The  young  girl  paused,  and  taking  the  nubia  from  the  servant, 
threw  it  around  her  shoulders. 

"  Doubt  what.  Miss  Mary  ?" 

''I  will  not  finish  tlie  sentence.  I  fear  I  might,  perchance,  do 
some  one  injustice." 

"Shall  we  go?"  and  the  gallant  captain,  with  all  the  air  of  one 
who  has  a  position  and  feels  it,  offered  his  arm  to  escort  the  trem- 
bling girl  to  the  carriage,  which  stood  at  the  door  awaiting  them. 

It  was  a  splendid  scene.  The  gorgeously  furnished  rooms  were 
brilliantly  liglited,  and  thronged  with  the  beauty  and  elegance  of 
the  city.  Bright  eyes  flashed,  and  diamonds  gleamed,  and  smile 
answered  smile,  and  greeting  and  congratulations  were  every- 
where given  and  returned  throughout  that  gay  multitude,  where 
each  heart  seemed  to  have  forgotten  forever  all  sorrow,  where 
each  face  was  radiant  with  smiles,  and  every  tongue  was  voluble 
with  utterances  of  joy  and  gladness. 

Near  the  door  of  the  conservatory,  where  rich,  rare  flowers 
breathed  out  fragrant  perfumes,  and  where  a  hundred  lights  threw 
a  flood  of  dazzling  splendor  over  these  mute  but  eloquent  repre- 
sentatives of  every  clime,  stood  Mary  Lawrence,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  young  Morton.  He  was  speaking  in  a  low  but  earnest 
tone,  and  his  attitude  and  manner  betrayed  the  depth  of  his  feel- 
ing. With  half-averted  face,  now  flushed  to  crimson,  and  eyes 
bent  to  the  ground,  she  listened  to  the  fervent  words.  Her  bosom 
heaved  with  deep  emotion,  her  hand  trembled  as  it  clasped  the 
fan  which  she  vainly  endeavored  to  use  to  cool  her  burning  cheeks. 
She  felt  that  the  eyes  of  all  who  passed  were  fastened  uppn  her, 
and  this  served  to  increase  her  embarrassment. 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  with  Mary  Lawrence  to-night?"  asked 
Miss  Whitmore  of  Lieutenant  Dickinson,  as  the  two  stood  in  a 
position  in  the  parlor  that  commanded  a  full  view  of  the  conser- 
vatory door.  She  appears  so  excited.  I  have  never  seen  her  half 
so  gay  as  she  seems  this  evening,  nor  yet  half  so  beautiful.  Is  not 
she  a  perfect  picture  of  loveliness,  as  she  stands  yonder  beside  that 

7* 


154  EATDS   AND   EOiMAXCE 

large  orange-tree?  She  looks  a  fairy 'mid  the  flowers.  Indeed, 
no  idea  that  I  have  ever  formed  of  the  ancient  goddesses  could  at 
all  equal  my  realization  of  beauty  in  that  form  and  face.  I  do  not 
wonder  Captain  Morton  worships  her.  Look  how  earnestly  he 
bends  to  catch  her  slightest  word,  and  how  admiringly  he  gazes 
upon  her!  His  soul  is  wrapt  in  devotion  at  tlie  shrine  of  her 
charms.'' 

'•Busy-mouthed  rumor  says  they  are  engaged  to  be  married  in 
September  next.  I  know  not  whether  the  statement  be  true.  I 
have  heard  it  from  various  sources,  and  I  ojjine  no  one  who 
has  observed  his  devotion  to  her  to-night  will  for  a  moment  doubt 
it.  You  regard  the  engagement  as  being  a  matter  of  certainty, 
do  you  not.  Miss  Lu?"  said  the  lieutenant,  turning  to  address 
Cbarley's  sister,- who,  but  a  few  minutes  before,  in  company  with 
Miss  Brent  and  two  young  gentlemen,  had  taken  a  position  near 
Miss  Whitmore  and  Lieutenant  Dickinson,  and  who,  interested  in 
the  officer's  remarks,  had  turned  to  give  him  attention. 

'•Mr.  Shirley  and  I  were  but  a  few  minutes  ago  discussing  that 
question,"  she  replied,  assuming  as  much  calmness  as  she  could 
command.     "  He  took  the  affirmative.     I  ditfered  in  opinion." 

'•  It  is  certainly  so,  Miss  Lu!"  exclaimed  young  Shirley.  "Fred 
is  one  of  my  friends.     I  cannot  be  mistaken." 

'']^o  one  doubts  it  now,"  added  Mr.  Grayson.  "  The  evidences 
are  conclusive." 

"It  has  been  believed  for  weeks,"  interposed  Miss  Brent. 
"Three  weeks  since  the  rumor  was  so  rife,  I  felt  justifiable  in 
writing  the  report  to  my  brother  who  is  with  Colonel  Morgan, 
and  since  then  I  have  had  such  frequent  intimations  of  it  that  I 
have  learned  to  regard  it  as  a  fixed  fact." 

"  He  has  scarcely  left  her  side  during  the  evening.  I  have  ob- 
served several  gentlemen  endeavor  to  win  her  from  him.  I  my- 
self thought  to  do  so;  but  after  using  all  the  strategy  that  I  could 
master,  I  had  at  last  to  acknowledge  myself  foiled." 

"Ah,  Grayson!  we  unstarred,  buttonless  wights  stand  but  a 
poor  chance  now  in  winning  the  hearts  of  the  ladies  fair.  'Our 
occupation's  gone.'  There  is  something  about  the  stripes  and 
tinsel  that  charms  the  girls,  We  shall  have  to  don  les  •habits 
militaire^  or  make  up  our  minds  to  be  Benedicts,"  said  Shirley 
with  an  air  of  badinage,  at  the  same  time  looking  with  an  ex- 
pression of  mock  grief  upon  the  three  ladies  present. 

"Come,  come,  Shirley,  you  do  the  ladies  injustice,"  responded 
the  lieutenant.     "  I  appeal  to  the  three  present  to  support  me  in  a 


OF   MOEGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  155 

denial  of  tlie  charge.     Say,  ladic^s  !•'  there  an  attraction  about  the 
trappings  of  war  to  win  your  hearts  and  fix  your  atfections?" 

"By  no  means,"  responded  Miss  Wliitmore ;  "if  a  man  is  a 
patriot,  I  care  not  whetiier  he  wears  the  insignia  of  the  battle-field 
or  not,"  and  she  smiled  very  complacently  on  the  officer  by  her  side. 
"There  is  a  wide  difference  in  our  views  of  patriotism,  lieu- 
tenant," replied  Miss  Brent,  spiritedly,  yet  with  no  manifestation 
of  unkind  feeling.  "  I  deem  it  far  more  noble,  far  more  patriotic 
to  oppose  the  wrong  than  to  perpetrate  it:  to  tight  for  freedom 
and  liberty  than  for  subjugation." 

"Oh,  we  will  not  argue  this  question  now,  Miss  Brent.  Our 
views  are  diverse,  and  I  suppose  irreconcilable,"  responded  the 
Federal  officer,  reddening  over  the  position  in  which  the  young 
lady's  remarks  placed  him. 

A  smile  of  satisfaction  gleamed  on  the  face  of  Grayson  and 
Shirley  at  the  embarrassment  of  the  lieutenant.  They  were  at 
heart  Southern,  and  were  only  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  get 
through  the  lines  to  join  Colonel  Morgan. 

"  Will  it«ot  be  the  Union  of  the  white  and  red  roses  when  Miss 
Lawrence  and  young  Morton  marry  ?"  remarked  young  Grayson  to 
Miss  Brent,  as  they  withdrew  to  a  position  nearer  the  door  which 
led  out  to  the  conservatory.  "  You  know  she  was  always  regarded 
as  one  of  our  most  patriotic  Southern  ladies.  Indeed,  it  is  said 
that  she  had  a  lover  who  was  taken  at  Donelson.  It  is  no  other 
than  our  old  friend,  Charley  K.,  and  that  she  went  in  disguise  of 
a  nun  to  Camp  Chase  to  visit  him." 

"And  so  she  did,  though  it  is  not  generally  known.  Lou.  R., 
Charley's  sister,  accompanied  her,  and  she  will  not  believe  that 
Mary  and  Fred  Morton  will  ever.be  married.  You  see  she  will 
not  be  convinced.  But  certainly  she  is  the  only  one  that  doubts. 
And  she  can  no  longer  disbelieve  after  what  she  must  have  ob- 
served this  evening." 

Supper  was  announced,  and  the  guests  were  ushered  into  the 
large  and  brilliantly  lighted  dining-room,  where  tables,  laden  with 
every  delicacy  that  could  please  the  eye  or  tempt  the  palate,  were 
spread  out  in  luxurious  bounty  and  elegance  before  the  charmed  eve; 
sparkling  wines,  every  variety  of  confection,  in  style  a  la  Parisi- 
enne,  ices,  sherbets,  noyaus,  jellies,  cakes  of  magnificent  size  and 
proportion,  with  every  variety  of  iced  ornament  that  the  imadrta- 
tion  could  conceive,  with  fruits  of  all  climes,  were  arranged  wirli 
such  artistic  taste  and  skill  as  to  give  an  air  of  magic  grandeur  lo 
this  splendid  collation. 


156  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCIC 

It  SO  chanced  that  at  the  table  Lon.  R.  found  lierself  ris-a-vis 
to  Miss  Lawrence  and  the  young  captaio,  wliile  to  her  left  stood 
Miss  Brent  with  Mr.  Spalding,  an  old  friend  of  her  brother  Charley, 
and  now  a  devoted  admirer  of  Miss  R. 

Mr.  Spalding,  a  young  man  of  twenty-seven,  handsome  and  in- 
telligent, was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  farmer  near  Lebanon,  Kentucky. 
Having  met  Miss  R.  during  the  winter  while  on  a  visit  to  her 
aunt,  who  resided  in  the  vicinity  of  his  father,  he  had  formed  a 
warm  attachment  for  her,  and  during  the  spring  and  summer  had 
become  quite  a  frequent  visitor  at  her  fatlier's. 

Having  been,  from  his  earliest  childhood,  a  great  favorite  with 
the  family  of  Mr.  H.,  with  whom  he  was  distantly  connected,  he 
■was  ever  a  guest  in  the  house  while  visiting  the  city.  As  soon  as 
he  received  his  invitation  to  the  party,  he  hastened  to  Louisville  to 
secure  the  company  of  Lou.  R.,  but  found,  on  arriving,  that  Mr. 
Shirley,  who  was  also  an  admirer  of  the  young  lady,  had  previ- 
ously engaged  it. 

Opposed  to  Miss  Brent  and  Mr.  Spalding  were  Miss  H.,  the 
daughter  of  the  generous  host,  and  young  Quimby,*  cousin  of 
Captain  Morton's,  who  had  formerly  been  a  lover  of  Miss  Brent, 
but,  owing  to  political  differences,  they  had  become  estranged,  and 
the  young  gentleman  now  vied  with  Lieutenant  Dickinson  in  his 
attentions  to  Miss  "Whitmore,  one  of  the  belles  of  the  occasion. 

Conversation  flowed  freely  between  the  friends  across  the  table. 
Only  young  Quimby  seemed  averse  to  enjoy  the  dashes  of  witty 
and  brilliant  repartee  which  were  giving  zest  to  the  charming 
viands.  He  was  piqued  at  his  proximity  to  Miss  Brent,  and  as- 
sumed an  expression  of  contempt  for  what  he  chose  to  denominate 
persiflage.  Captain  Morton  appeared  the  very  embodiment  of 
happiness.  He  had  a  smile  and  bow  for  every  one,  and  a  satisfac- 
tory air  which  seemed  to  say  I  possess  all  my  heart  desires. 

Mary  Lawrence  was  gay,  unusually  so,  but  her  friend  Lou.  R. 
thought  she  discovered  in  her  conduct  something  which  pro- 
nounced her  buoyancy  an  effort.  There  was  an  expression  of 
suhduedness  in  her  manner  and  on  her  face  which,  to  the  sister's 
eager  searching  interest,  appeared  the  index  of  that  soft  and  tender 
emotion,  the  consciousness  of  loving  and  being  loved.  And  as  the 
thought  of  her  friend's  falsity  to  her  brother  settled  into  a  convic- 
tion in  the  sister's  heart,  she  grew  pale  with  the  feeling  of  the 
deep  wrong  done  that  noble  soul,  of  the  agony  and  sorrow  that 
must  wring  his  heart  with  anguish  unutterable. 

The  remainder  of  the  evening  was  passed  by  her  in  alte^nat^ 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  157 


ler 


hope  and  fear.  Every  movement  of  Mary  Lawrence  received  1 
searching  scrutiny.  But  amid  tiie  whirl  and  excitement  of  the 
>  moving  multitude  she  could  form  no  just  conclusion.  Often,  as 
she  passed  amid  the  throng,  her  ear  was  greeted  with  the  fearful 
announcement  of  tlie  certainty  of  the  approaching  marriage. 

Once  she  thought  to  take  Mary  aside,  and  ask  her  if  it  could  be 
true  that  she  had  deceived  Charley.  ]5ut  why  ask  her,  she  said  to 
herself;  if  she  is  false,  will  she  not  deny  it  ?  I  could  not  expect 
her  to  confess  to  me. 

Bewildered,  chagrined,  grieved,  jealous  of  her  brother's  honor 
and  happiness,  and  yet  unwilling  to  inflict  an  injustice,  even  in 
thought,  upon  the  friend  of  her  childhood,  Lou.  R.  left  the  gay  as- 
semblage, at  the  close  of  the  evening,  with  feelings  to  which  she 
had  hitherto  been  a  stranger— feelings  that  she  could  not  analyze. 

"You  are  sad  to-night,  Miss  Lu,"  said  Mr.  Spalding  to  her,  as 
he  accompanied  her  and  Mr.  Shirley  to  the  house  of  a  friend  on 
Broadway. 

"A  perceptible  change  has  passed  over  you  in  the  last  two 
hours.  Miss  Lu,"  interposed  Mr.  Shirley.  ''Did  you  lose  your 
heart  in  the  gay  throng  of  cavaliers,  to-night  ?  I  observed  the 
admiring  and  very  devoted  manner  of  the  gay  Lothario  from 
Lexington,  Mr.  Grigsby.  Was  he  really  successful  in  making  an 
ineffaceable  impression  ?" 

"  Oh,  by  no  means,  Mr.  Shirley,"  she  replied,  with  that  frankness 
so  characteristic  of  her  heart.  ''  He  is  a  pleasant,  agreeable  gen- 
tleman; but  I  shall  have  no  remembrance  of  him  beyond  an 
evening  acquaintance." 

*' I  would  not  be  bold  or  inquisitive,  Miss  Lu,"  said  Spalding, 
in  a  serious  tone,  ''  but  I  will  dare  to  ask,  as  a  friend,  why  it  is 
you  have  been  so  sad  for  the  last  few  hours  ?" 

"  What,  have  I  been  sad  ?  I  fancied  I  was  very  glad  and  hapy)y. 
You  gentlemen  must  be  deceived.  Have  I  not  been  full  of  smiles 
and  laughter  ?" 

"  Rather  of  thought  and  sadness.  It  could  be  read  in  your  face ; 
was  echoed  in  your  tone — spoke  in  every  movement." 

'•  All  a  mistake,  gentlemen.  Allow  me  to  say  to  you,  you  have 
greatly  deceived  yourselves." 

'•Happy  to  hear  you  so  declare.  Miss  Lu,"  replied  Spaldino- 
"Better  that  we  should  be  deceived  than  you  gneved." 

"  How  very  brilliant  your  friend  Mtss  Lawrence  was  to-night !" 
he  added,  after  a  pause.  "And  so  beautiful !  I  presume  there  is 
no  doubt  but  that  she  is  engaged  to  young  Morton.  His  attentions 


158  IIAIDS   AND   EOMANCE 

to  her  to-night  were  vexingly  devoted,  I  but  bowed  to  her.  I 
bad  desired  to  converse  with  her,  for  I  wished  to  hear  her  describe 
her  visit  to  Camp  Chase.  She  is  aufait  in  description.  Captain 
Morton  will  secure  a  lovely  and  charming  prize  when  he  cluims 
her  as  his  own." 

The  young  girl  made  no  reply. 

"•  He  is  a  lucky  fellow,  indeed,"  interposed  Shirley.  "  Miss  Mary 
is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  of  our  city,  and  as  good  as  she 
is  beautiful." 

The  party  had  reached  the  steps  as  Mr.  Shirley  concluded  his 
remark.  Waiting  to  see  the  young  lady  safely  in,  they  bade  her 
good-night,  and  left. 

To  describe  the  sister's  emotions,  as  she  lay  tiiinking  over  the 
strange,  inexplicable  question  before  her,  would  be  impossible. 
Her  soul  was  stirred  to  its  depths  at  the  thought  of  the  deep  injury 
her  brotlier  had  received,  and  her  indignation  against  the  author 
of  the  crime  changed  her  love  to  hatred. 

"■I  will  w^-ite  to  Ciiarley  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  lay  tossing  on 
her  pillow.  "I  will  tell  him  he  has  been  deceived — wronged — 
cursed — in  bestowing  his  wealth  of  love  on  this  unworthy  girl." 


OF   M0RGA2^  AND  HIS   MEX.  159 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


THE    SURPRISE. 


It  Lad  for  some  time  been  the  intention  of  Colonel  Morgan  to 
advance  into  Kentucky,  for  the  purpose  of  recruiting  his  forces, 
and  of  harassing  and  damaging  the  enemy,  by  cutting  off  transpor- 
tation, capturing  his  detached  Iroops,  and  destroying  his  stores  at 
such  points  as  he  should  find  imperfectly  protected.  The  sad 
disaster  at  Lebanon,  Tennessee,  had  delayed  the  accomplishment 
of  his  plan,  but  though  ])ostponed  it  had  never  been  abandoned. 

His  designs  had  been  imparted  to  his  staff,  and  their  advice  and 
co-operation  solicited.  They  fully  coincided  in  his  views,  deeming 
the  undertaking  one  thAt,  if  properly  conducted,  would  necessarily 
result  in  great  benefit  to  the  Confederate  cause. 

His  adjutant,  Major  Basil  Duke,  a  man  of  cool  judgment  and 
undaunted  courage,  together  with  Colonel  St.  Leger  Grenfel,  an 
English  officer,  who  had  attached  himself  to  Colonel  Morgan,  and 
who,  from  his  experience  and  skill,  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  accom- 
pany such  an  expedition,  were  his  chief  advisers. 

One  of  the  objects  of  the  expedition — indeed,  the  main  one — 
was  the  destruction  of  the  Louisville  and  Nashville  railroad,  upon 
which  the  enemy  in  Tennessee,  owing  to  the  low  stage  of  the 
Cuujberland  river,  was  ahnost  wholly  dependent  for  sujjplies, 
C(mld  the  road  be  effectually  destroyed,  it  would  necessarily 
greatly  embarrass  him  for  the  present,  and  certainly  retard  his 
advance. 

After  the  return  of  the  eighty  prisoners,  the  first  thing  to  be 
attended  to  was  the  arming  and  equipping  of  as  many  as  it  was 
possible  to  attend  to  under  the  circumstances.  Most  of  them  were 
veterans  who  could  be  relied  on  in  any  emergency. 

Many  of  them  were  natives  of  the  State,  perfectly  famihar  \yith 
its  roads  and  streams,  and  consequently  peculiarly  fitted  for  an 
advance,  and  for  reconnoitring. 

Colonel  Morgan,  after  having  matured  his  plan,  and  made  such 
preparations  as  he  deemed  necessary,  determined  to  move  into 


160  RAIDS    AND    KOMAXCE 

Kentucky.  It  was  about  the  4tli  of  July  when  he  set  out  on  his 
undertaking. 

Leaving  his  headquarters  in  the  vicinity  of  Knoxville,  he  made 
a  dash  through  Middle  Tennessee,  crossed  the  Cumberland  river 
near  Hartsville,  and  entered  the  State  south  of  Scottsville,  to  wliich 
point  he  proceeded  with  the  main  body  of  his  force,  numbering 
about  one  thousand  men. 

Meanwhile,  he  sent  Colonel  Stearnes,  with  a  detachment  of  about 
two  hundred  and  jBfty  men,  to  capture  Torapkinsville,  and  destroy 
what  stores  might  be  found  there.  There  were  stationed  at  this 
town  four  companies  of  a  Pennsylvania  cavalry  rci^iment.  Not 
supposing  that  the  enemy  was  within  hundreds  of  miles,  the  Yan- 
kees were  completely  surprised,  and  after  a  short  and  bloodless 
contest,  were  fully  routed,  with  the  loss  of  forty  prisoners  and  as 
many  horses  and  guns. 

It  was  an  entire  defeat  to  the  Federals,  and  so  rapid  were  the 
movements  of  the  Confederates,  that  before  the  routed  foe  could 
recover  from  their  consternation  and  rally  reinforcements  for  an 
attack,  the  enemy  had  fled,  they  knew  not  whither. 

Colonel  Morgan,  at  the  head  of  his  command,  then  dashed  into 
Glasgow,  where,  after  capturing  the  place  and  its  provost-guard, 
and  releasing  some  Southern  men  whom  he  ft)und  imprisoned  foi 
their  opinions,  he  issued  a  proclamation  explaining  his  object  in 
invading  the  State,  and  called  on  all  true  Kentuckians,  who  re- 
garded freedom  as  a  birthright,  and  were  unwilling  to  bow  the 
knee  before  usurpation  and  tyranny,  to  join  his  standard  and  assist 
in  redeeming  their  beloved  State  from  the  vile  thraldom  under 
which  she  now  groaned. 

A  little  incident  occurred  here  worthy  of  notice,  since  it  illus- 
trates the  difference  between  the  animus  of  Southern  men  and  so- 
styled  Union  men. 

There  was  in  Glasgow  a  Judge  McFerrin,  a  prominent  member 
of  the  ]3aptist  Church,  now  an  old  man ;  his  head  was  whitened 
by  age,  his  litheness  and  buoyancy  were  long  since  gone.  When 
the  question  of  Nortli  and  South  was  introduced  into  Kentucky, 
he  took  a  very  decided  stand  in  favor  of  what  he  called  "  the  Gov- 
ernment.'''' Some  of  his  friends,  more  far-sighted  than  himself, 
endeavored  to  convince  him  of  his  error  in  supposing  ah  abo- 
lition administration  ever  was  or  ever  could  be  the  constitutional 
government  of  the  United  States.  But  the  old  man,  never  dis- 
tinguished for  quick  perception  and  correct  conclusions,  with  his 
faculties  blinded  by  years,  could  not  be  made  to  discriminate  be- 


OF   MOEGAN    AND   HIS   MEN".  161 

tvreen  the  two.  And  with  a  zeal  all  untempered  by  judgment,  he 
espoused  the  "  jmio/i  ca </«<',"  and  became  the  bitter  opponent  of 
all  who  dared  to  entertain  a  contrary  opinion.  With  tiiat  intoler- 
ance cliaraoteristic  of  narrow  minds  governed  by  prejudice  and 
passion  rather  than  right  reason,  he  denounced  all  who  opposed 
Lis  mistaken  views  as  destitute  of  all  religion,  and  wholly  debarred 
forever  from  entering  the  kinfrdom  of  heaven.  Thus,  with  Jesu- 
itical zeal,  he  became  the  persecutor  of  his  brethren.  For  months 
he  had  been  active  in  finding  out  wlio,  in  his  vicinity,  were 
"  vile  secesh,"  as  he  contemptuously  branded  them,  and  when- 
ever a  fitting  opportunity  offered,  he  would  "bring  them  to  jus- 
tice," as  he  denominated  searching  out  innocent  neighbors,  and 
having  them  imprisoned. 

His  zeal  equalled  that  of  Paul,  when  breathing  out  threatenings 
and  slaughter  against  the  disciples  of  the  Lord.  He  persecuted 
this  way  unto  death,  binding  and  delivering  into  prison  both  men 
women. 

And  all  this  was  done  to  support  the  "best  government  in  the 
world,"  it  was  alleged,  as  if  the  precepts  of  the  Divine  Teacher 
were  no  longer  binding  on  the  consciences  of  those  who  had  es- 
poused the  cause  of  the  civil  magistrate. 

Colonel  Morgan's  men  had  been  informed  of  the  course  pur- 
sued by  the  old  judge.  Partly  by  way  of  retaliation,  and  partly 
for  amusing  variety,  they  determined  on  his  arrest. 

It  was  high  noon.  The  old  judge,  sitting  in  his  oflBce,  in  all  the 
assumption  of  judicial  dignity,  was  conversing  with  two  or  three 
friends,  like-minded  with  himself,  on  the  "wicked  rebellion," 
and  the  doom  that  ought  to  be  meted  out  to  every  traitor  in  the 
land,  be  he  young  or  old,  distinguished  or  obscure. 

His  wrath  waxed  hot  as  he  dwelt  on  the  "high  crime  of  trying 
to  overthrow  the  best  government,  in  the  act  of  endeavoring  to 
break  up  the  glorious  Union  for  which  our  forefathers  bled ;"  and 
as  he  warmed  with  his  subject,  his  righteous  indignation  would 
vent  itself  in  sundry  hard  thumps  on  the  red  cherry  t:ible  at  his 
side,  which  served  with  him  to  give  emphasis  to  his  loud  and 
bitter  words.  While  the  old  judge  was  thus  in  the  very  height  of 
his  abusive  tirade,  a  young  man,  breathless  with  excitement,  rush- 
ed to  the  door  of  the  office,  and  calling  out,  "  Morgan's  men  !  Mor- 
gan's men  in  town  !"  disappeared  down  the  street.  Suddenly  the 
scene  changed.  The  question  was  now,  not  how  he  should  defend 
his  country  against  the  vile  secesh  invader,  but  how  he  could  save 
Lis  own  important  person. 


162  EAIDS    Am)   KOMAIfCE 

A  fearful  silence  quickly  succeeded  the  loud  rant  of  the  moment 
before,  and  the  crimson  of  fierce  passion  died  out  in  the  wrinkled 
face  of  the  old  man,  over  >vhich  the  deadly  pallor  of  fear  now 
spread  itself.  This  violent  denouncer  of  "■  traitors  and  rebels," 
like  Felix,  was  seized  with  sudden  trembling  in  view  of  his  high 
misdemeanor.  His  ardent  patriotism  vaporized  in  a  moment  at 
the  mere  mention  of  the  enemy's  presence.  Not  waiting  for  any 
further  assurance  of  danger,  he  cast  one  wild,  blank  look  on  his 
horror-stricken  companions,  and  seizing  his  hat  with  the  despera- 
tion of  a  man  who  seeks  to  free  himself  from  impending  destruc- 
tion, he  rushed  through  the  back  door  of  his  office,  and  with  rapid 
strides  sought  his  home.  Reaching  the  house,  he  dashed  frantically 
in,  and  exclaimed  with  gasping  breath,  "Morgan,  Morgan,  Mor- 
gan !"  and  without  pausing  to  answer  any  of  the  many  inquiries 
proposed  by  his  affrighted  family,  he  dashed  out  of  the  door 
through  which  he  had  entered,  hastened  down  the  street  as  if 
pursued  by  the  vengeful  Furies,  never  pausing  a  moment  to  look 
to  the  right  or  left  until  he  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  little 
town.  He  was  making  his  way  with  all  possible  celerity  to  a 
field  of  corn  which  stood  to  the  left  of  the  main  road,  hoping 
to  secrete  himself  therein  until  he  could  pass  unobserved  to  the 
house  of  a  friend  two  miles  distant  in  the  country.  But,  alas 
for  his  vision  of  escape,  just  as  he  gained  the  fence  a  voice  cried 
out — 

"There  he  goes,  boys;  see  him,  see  him ;  catch  him  !" 

"  Where,  where  V  cried  out  a  dozen  voices  at  once. 

Like  a  death-knell  the  words  fell  on  the  ear  of  the  old  man,  now 
vainly  essaying  to  climb  the  fence.  He  was  perched  target-like 
on  the  topmost  rail,  his  hair  streaming  out  on  the  breeze  (he  had 
lost  his  hat  in  his  desperate  plunge  at  the  fence),  his  face  pale  with 
aftVight,  while  he  shook  from  head  to  foot  with  trepidation  and 
alarm. 

"Where,  where?"  the  boys  repeated. 

"Yonder  on  that  fence,  behind  that  large  tree.  Don't  you  see 
him  ?"  and  young  Leslie,  who  knew  the  old  man  well,  dashed  on 
towards  the  spot,  followed  by  his  comrades,  shouting  like  mad- 
men. 

'^  Our  prisoner,  judge,"  said  he.  as  he  sprang  forward  towards 
the  old  man.  ''Turn  about  is  fair  play,  you  know.  You  have 
been  persecuting  our  friends;  we  nmst  now  avenge  their  wrongs. 
Come  with  us,  if  you  please."  The  old  man  was  assisted  from  his 
perch,  placed  between  two  of  the  boys  and  marched  back  to  town, 


or  MORGAN  AND   HIS   MEN.  163 

his  guard  in  tlie  mean  time  preserving  the  greatest  gravity,  wliile 
the  boys  behind  were  convulsed  with  hiughter. 

"And  tlie  day  of  retribution  has  at  hist  come,  and  woe  to  the 
ofttiulers  I  tell  you,  boys.  They  must  now  endure  something 
more  than  the  lashings  of  conscience,"  responded  Morgan  in  a 
solemn  voice,  at  the  same  time  looking  most  mischievously  at 
Charley. 

"Ah!  most  fearful  indeed  must  be  their  doom.  Ours  is  the 
Draconian  code — death  by  the  law  for  every  crime,"  added  Charley 
impressively,  catching  in  a  moment  young  Morgan's  meaning. 

Leslie  and  Irving,  scarcely  able  to  contain  themselves,  glanced 
round  with  an  approving  smile  upon  their  companions,  while  the 
boys  behind  them  laughed  outright  at  tlie  farce 

The  boys  knew  that  Colonel  Morgan  would  release  the  old  judge 
after  scaring  him  a  while,  and  they  were  determined  to  punish 
him  a  little  on  their  own  score. 

So  Charley  and  }'oung  Morgan,  assisted  by  several  others  wlio 
crowded  round  the  trembling  culprit,  continued  their  ominous 
remarks,  preserving  all  the  while  a  most  serious  tone. 

Tlie  old  judge  looked  nervously  first  on  one  side  and  then  on 
the  other,  lie  would  have  defended  himself,  but  he  could  not 
think  what  to  say.  lie  knew  he  was  guilty  of  all  the  charges  the 
boys  so  adroitly  brought  against  "offenders,"  and  he  was  left 
without  one  plea  to  argue  in  his  own  behalf.  He  was  thinking, 
as  well  as  the  confused  state  of  his  mind  would  allow,  of  throwing 
himself  on  the  clemency  of  Colonel  Morgan,  who  he  had  often 
heard  was  full  of  magnanimity,  when  Charley  remarked  to  the 
boys  in  a  loud,  distinct  tone — 

"Our  colonel  is  always  ready  to  forgive  a  personal  wrong,  boys, 
you  know;  but  when  \\\s  friends  have  suffered  at  the  hands  of 
Unit)n  men,  he  never  fails  to  redress  their  grievances  in  the  most 
summary  manner. 

The  old  man's  heart  sunk  within  him.  His  last  hope  was  gone. 
His  knees  trembled  violently — the  deadly  pallor  of  his  face  ii- 
creased — he  stared  wildly  upon  his  tormentors.  Soon  he  would 
be  in  the  presence  of  his  inexorable  judge,  to  await  his  fearful 
sentence.  '' ^yhat  would  that  sentence  be?"  his  fearful  heart 
asked.     What  could  it  be  but  the  severest  punishment! 

"  Oh,  that  I  had  but  pursued  a  different  course  !"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  My  country  did  not  require  all  this  at  my  hand<.  Oh  that 
I  had  minded  my  own  business  and  left  these  matters  ahme!" 

"  There  are  Southern  men  in  jail  in  this  town  now,  I  heai,"  re- 


164  RAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

plied  Morgan,  "  placed  here  throngh  the  efforts  of  Union  men. 
They  must  be  avenged." 

"  Some  of  our  friends  and  relatives  are  in  prison,  Jones,"  said 
Leslie  to  one  of  the  young  men  near  him.  ''  Wk  must  see  that 
they  are  released,  and  their  persecutors  sent  down  to  Dixie  to  try 
the  charms  of  imprisonment  there." 

Tliese  two  young  men  were  from  the  vicinity  of  Glasgow. 
Their  relatives  were  all  Southern  in  sentiment,  and  with  others 
had  shared  the  injustice  of  the  mob. 

''They  will  be  fully  avenged  now,  Leslie.  Those  who  have 
placed  them  there  will  have  to  suffer  for  it.  Colonel  Morgan  will 
ferret  out  the  whole  matter,  and  when  he  finds  the  guilty  one,  I 
tell  you,  woe  be  to  him." 

*'  It  were  better  that  a  millstone  were  hung  about  his  neck,  and 
he  cast  into  the  depths  of  the  Mississippi." 

"  And  it  is  but  just  that  they  should  suffer,"  responded  Charley, 
preserving  his  solemn  air  and  impressive  tone.  ''  Nothing  but  just. 
It  is  a  crying  sin,  that  sliould  meet  with  the  severest  penalty,  this 
thing  of  taking  up  a  man  and  putting  him  in  prison  merely 
because  he  can't  think  as  another  man  does.  We  don't  imprison 
men  for  their  opinions,  and  woe  to  the  Union  man  when  he  falls 
into  our  hands  who  has  been  the  cause  of  hunting  out  his  Southern 
neighbors  and  putting  them  in  jail." 

Thus  regaling  the  ears  of  their  conscience-stricken  prisoner,  the 
boys  bore  him  along  to  the  presence  of  Colonel  Morgan.  Leslie 
introduced  the  judge. 

"Judge  McFerrin,"  observed  the  colonel,  eyeing  closely  tlie 
trembling  old  man  :  "  I  think  I  have  heard  of  you,  judge.  Not 
very  friendly  to  us  'vile  secesh,'  I  believe — have  had  something 
to  do  with  arresting  those  gentlemen  there  whom  I  have  just  re- 
leased," said  he,  pointing  to  the  five  citizens  of  the  place  who  had 
but  a  few  minutes  before  stepped  forth  from  the  county  jail. 

The  old  man  could  not  reply.  He  stood  as  if  spell-bound,  lo-k- 
ing  upon  his  accuser. 

"Take  care  of  the  judge,  boys.  I  will  attend  to  his  case  an- 
other time,"  and  Colonel  Morgan  having  very  politely  waved  to 
the  boys  to  remove  the  prisoner,  it  was  done  witli  all  possible 
solemnity. 

The  old  man,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  was  conducted 
to  his  ofiice,  the  door  locked,  and  a  guard  stationed  round  the 
house. 

The  boys,  who  had  entered  into  the  scene  with  great  zeal,  and 


OF   MORGAN    AND    llIS    MEN.  165 

•who  had  derived  no  little  merriment  from  the  ludicrous  fright  of 
tiie  old  judge,  determined  not  to  release  him  until  he  was  sworn 
to  good  behavior  for  the  future.  So  after  keeping  him  in  prison 
for  full  three  hours,  dinnerless  and  quaking  with  alarm,  they 
brought  him  forth  and  duly  administered  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  the  Southern  Confederacy,  to  which  the  old  judge,  happy  for 
any  means  of  escape,  subscribed,  albeit  his  self-pride  brought 
certain  contortions  to  his  face,  which  the  boys,  divining  the  cause, 
enjoyed  most  fully. 

"Go,  sin  no  more.  "We'll  be  round  about  here  soon  again,  and 
Lope  to  have  a  good  report  from  you,"  said  Irving,  taking  upon 
liiinself  the  dignity  of  a  magistrate.  The  old  judge  turned,  and 
liastened  away  from  this  improvi:>ed  court  of  justice  a  wiser  if  not 
a  better  man. 

In  a  few  short  hours  fear  had  so  far  overcome  his  patriotism 
that  he  has  never  since  manifested  any  lingering  of  his  Jesuitical 
propensity. 

That  evening  Colonel  Morgan,  with  his  command,  set  out  on  a 
rapid  march  to  central  Kentucky. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Charley  to  young  Lawrence,  as  the  two 
rode  on  in  the  soft  moonlight,  "if  we  shall  really  reach  Louis- 
ville?" 

The  interrogatory  was  propounded  in  a  tone  so  full  of  melan- 
choly that  Lawrence  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  fixed  his  eyes  full 
upon  the  face  of  his  friend,  which  was  plainly  visible  in  the  moon- 
light, its  sadness  deepened  by  the  pale,  soft  light. 

"Indeed,  I  cannot  tc'll,.Cliarley,  but  suppose  we  will  if  it  is 
practicable.  But  one  would  think  from  your  look  that  you  would 
prefer  death  to  a  return  to  your  old  home.  TVhat  is  the  matter 
-with  you,  anyhow  ?  You  have  looked  as  if.  Atlas-like,  you  had 
the  whole  world  on  your  shoulders.  I  have  noticed  it  ever  since 
this  expedition  was  projected.  Surely  you  are  not  seriously 
opposed  to  a  visit  to  our  dear  old  city,  if  it  does  wear  the  gyves 
of  the  '.Old  Baboon.'" 

"  No,  no,  John  ;  of  course  I  do  not  object  to  returning  to  Louis- 
ville." 

The  lips  uttered  the  words — the  conscience  questioned  their 
truth. 

"  If  she  is  false,"  he  exclaimed  to  himself,  "why  should  I  de- 
sire to  return?  Death — the  cold,  lone  grave — eternity  with  all  its 
dread  uncertainties — any  thing — any  thing  rather  than  see  her — 
she,  the  light  of  my  life,  another's!" 


166  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

"Charley,  you  puzzle  rue,  old  fellow.  You  act  like  one  in  a 
strange,  wild  dreara.  I  have  noticed  it  for  several  days.  Wiiat  on 
earth  can  be  the  matter  with  you  ?  When  we  are  all  so  delighted 
with  the  thought  of  being  once  more  on  old  Kentucky  soil,  so  wild 
with  the  hope  of  getting  back  to  Louisville,  to  greet  our  friends 
and  punish  ^our  foes;  to  find  you  sad  and  gloomy,  is  anomalous. 
I  can't  tell  how  to  interpret  it.  You  must  liave  something  on 
your  mind,  that  you  liaven't  told  me  of.  Out  with  it.  Jf  it 
is  a  secret,  I  will  keep  it  for  you  most  masonically — that  you 
know.  If  you  have  sins  to  atone  for,  let  me  be  your  father  con- 
fessor. It  will  do  you  good  to  unbosom  yourself.  Ct)me,  let's 
have  it." 

The  words  of  avowal  struggled  up  to  our  young  hero's  ]]\)S. 
He  was  about  to  disclose  his  consuming  grief.  He  paused  a 
moment,  choked  down  the  words  with  a' mighty  eftort,  and 
replied,  with  as  much  nonchalance  as  his  feelings  would  ad- 
mit— 

''You  must  l^e  mistaken,  John.  I  am  sure  I  act  very  naturally. 
I  am  not  well,  to  be  sure,  and  this  no  doubt  affects  me.  Perhaps 
I  do  seem  dull — I  certainly  feel  so." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  my  old  boy.  This  trip  will  cure  any 
indisposition  you  may  have,  I'll  wager.  Won't  it  be  too  fine,  if 
we  can  pounce  down  on  old  Prentice,  Jerry  Boyle,  and  a  few 
others  of  the  same  calibre,  and  whip  them  off  to  Dixie?  But  the 
cowards,  they'll  run.  I'll  venture  old  Prentice  is  already  sleep- 
ing of  nights  in  Jefferson ville  or  New  Albany.  We'll  never  get 
him,  I'm  afraid  ;  he  will  always  manage  to  keep  out  of  harm's 
way." 

Charley  made  no  answer  to  his  friend's  remarks,  but  rode  along 
silent  and  thoughtful.  After  several  fruitless  efforts  to  engage 
him  in  conversation,  Lawrence  desisted,  and  gave  himself  to 
humming  snatches  of  Southern  airs,  and  indulging  in  bright 
dreams — many  of  which,  like  the  dreamings  of  us  all,  were  never 
to  be  realized. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  column  reached  Barren  river,  where 
they  halted  for  the  night.  Pickets  were  thrown  out — scouts  sent 
forward — every  precaution  was  taken  to  avoid  surprise  by  the  foe. 
The  remembrance  of  Lebanon,  Tennessee,  was  yet  fresh  in  their 
memories. 

Charley  was  required  to  do  picket  duty.  The  lonely  hours  of 
the  night  rolled  wearily  on,  as  sullenly  he  brooded  over  his  great 
grief.     How  mockingly  every  sound  fell  on  his  ear  I  how  mock- 


OP  MOKGAJJ  AND   UIS  MEN.  Ig7 

irigly  every  sight  met  l,is  eye!     TI.e  moonbeam,,  n„,>erinK  in 

..Iver  sheen  on  the  bosom  of  the  quiet.movi„g  river;  ^the  n  ,  ,Ii„^ 

star  of  heaven;  the  ,Ieep,  dark  fores,;  the  breeze  \hat  Z 

s  s.lenee  orep, ;  ,he  h,w  monotone  of  the  cricket;  the  bayine  of 

"Scenes  that  are  brightest  awhile  may  beguile 
Hearts  that  are  Ii,.htest,  and  eyes  that  smile  ; 
And  o  er  them,  above  us,  Nature  n.ay  beam- 
But,  with  none  to  love  us,  how  dark  they  seem  !>' 


168  RAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


LEBANON,    KENTUCKY. 


It  was  Friday  morning,  July  11th,  when  Colonel  Morgan,  with 
about  seven  hundred  men,  set  out  for  Lebanon,  distant  thirty-five 
miles  from  Barren  river.  The  day  was  hot  and  dry ;  the  burning 
summer's  sun  looked  down  from  the  cloudless  heavens  above  upon 
the  parched  earth,  which  reflected  back  his  scorching  beams  into 
the  heated  air,  until  the  breath  of  the  Simoom  seemed  to  sweep 
over  the  land.  But  the  men,  neither  unnerved  by  scorching  sun  or 
winter's  icy  breath,  rode  cheerily  on.  And  one,  to  have  seen  them 
with  their  coats  off,  carelessly  hanging  from  the  arm  or  thrown 
across  the  horse  before  them,  while  the}' jauntily  sped  along,  and 
listened  to  their  gay  conversation  and  merry  laughter,  would  have 
thought  it  a  jocund  hunting-party,  rather  than  a  band  of  soldiers, 
far  away  from  friendly  assistance,  in  the  heart  of  an  enemy's  coun- 
try. Honor,  all  honor,  to  those  brave  men  and  their  gallant 
chieftain,  who  thus  boldly  penetrated  the  lines  of  the  foe,  and 
carried  terror  and  destruction  throughout  his  borders ! 

Twenty-nine  miles  of  the  rough,  weary  road  had  been  passed. 
Eleven  o'clock  at  night  found  this  handful  of  brave  men  at  the 
New  Market  bridge,  on  Rolling  Fork,  six  miles  from  Lebanon.  Up 
to  this  point  they  had  encountered  no  difficulty.  The  enemy  had 
wisely  withdrawn  from  their  path. 

And  here  they  were,  hundreds  of  miles  from  any  force  that 
could  give  them  relief — in  a  hostile  country,  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  a  vengeful  foe — everywhere  beset  by  those  whose  chief 
joy  it  would  be  to  betray  them  into  the  hands  of  that  foe — they 
braved  danger  in  every  form,  encountered  hardship  in  every  phase, 
that  they  might  serve  the  cause  of  right  and  human  liberty. 

Lebanon,  the  county  seat  of  Marion,  is  a  well-located  town, 
with  a  population  of  several  hundreds.  It  is  the  terminus  of  a 
branch  of  the  Louisville  and  Nashville  railroad,  and  the  thorough- 
fare for  all  the  travel  and  produce  from  the  large  extent  of  coun- 
try surrounding  it,  which  finds  outlet  at  Louisville.  It  was  re- 
garded as  a  point  of  great  importance  by  the  Federal  government, 


OF    MURGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  1C9 

and  wa.-=i  one  of  the  first  places  in  Kentncky  pernnanentlv  occupied 
by  their  tiooj)s.  Al  the  lime  of  which  we  write,  they  hurl  con- 
centrated at  this  point  a  large  ainonnt  of  stores  of  every  de>crii)- 
tion.  A  coniinodiuus  hospital  had  hcen  erected  near  the  to\tn, 
and  the  lartre -wagon-yards  were  filled  with  wagons,  atnhnlances, 
and  all  vehicle  para|thernalia.  It  was  a  tempting  prize  to  the 
Confederates,  and  their  hrave  leader  decided  to  secure  it. 

Two  companies  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Kentncky,  under  the  Fed- 
eral officer,  Lieutenant-colonel  A.  T.  Johnston,  held  the  place.  So 
rapid  had  been  the  movements  of  Colonel  Morgan  since  he  entered 
the  State,  that  but  little  respecting  them  could  be  ascertained  with 
certainty. 

The  excitement  and  indignation  consequent  on  the  occujiation 
of  this  town  by  the  Federal  troops,  had  subsided.  All  was  n<»w 
l)eace  and  quiet — the  villagers  had  grown  accustomed  to  the 
*' blue-coated  gentry,"  and  those  who  detested  them  and  the  prin- 
ciples they  represented,  had  learned  to  regard  them  with  con- 
temptuous silence. 

Suddenly,  on  the  11th  of  July,  the  town  was  thrown  into  a 
state  of  the  wildest  confusion  and  alarm.  Paimors  S[)read  through 
the  streets  that  John  Morgan  and  his  men,  having  driven  before 
them  all  the  Federal  forces  in  the  southern  part  of  the  State, 
routing  and  slaying  them  at  every  point,  were  now  marching 
rapidly  on  Lebanon.  Every  tongue  caught  up  the  fearful  intelli- 
gence— from  house  to  house  the  news  was  borne — each  repetition 
giving  a  widely  exaggerated  margin,  until  the  story  was  indeed 
one  of  fearful  import.  Shortly,  a  dispatch  came — this  was  authentic 
' — and  never  did  questioner  of  oracular  divinity  wait  with  more 
eager  fear  the  decisive  response,  than  did  the  terrified  crowd  the 
unfolding  of  the  lightning's  message.  Alas!  it  was  but  little  cal- 
culated to  still  their  consternation. 

About  noon,  the  following  dispatch  was  received — 

"John  Morgan  is  twenty  miles  southwest  of  Lebanon,  near 
the  little  village  of  '  Pinch  'Em  Slyly,'  and  will  take  Lebanon  to- 
night." 

This  confirmation  of  their  fears  sped  on  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
and  like  the  morning  rumors  was  soon  added  to,  and  so  highly 
colored,  that  the  six  hours'  future  became  the  fearful  now. 

Every  moment  Morgan  was  expected  to  rush  through  the  streets. 
"What  was  to  follow  his  dehut,  no  one  Icneic — each  one  imagined 
as  suited  his  preconceived  opinions  and  desires. 

8 


170  KAIDS    AND    KOMAKCE 

The  military  partook  deeply  of  the  fright.  Runners  were  dis- 
paiclied  here,  there,  everywhere,  to  warn  the  Home  Guiirds  to 
hold  ihenjselves  in  readiness  for  a  most  fearful  attack.  One  com- 
pany of  the  Twenty-eighth  Kentucky  was  placed  in  position  for 
oli'en^ive  operation?,  under  command  of  Captaiu  Barth.  Dis- 
patclies  were  sent  to  Louisville  and  other  points  for  reinforce- 
ments to  be  forwarded  immediately;  the  town  was  but  feebly 
defended,  and  unless  assistance  was  received,  it  must  certainly 
surrender. 

Evening  came,  but  brought  no  reinforcements.  The  com- 
mander, Lieutenant-colonel  Johnston,  was  in  a  sad  dilemma.  Every 
moment  the  dreaded  toe  was  ex[)ected  to  bear  down  upon  his  fee- 
ble band  with  an  overwhelming  force  of  veterans.  In  the  con- 
sternation, the  bridge  across  the  Rolling  Fork  was  forgotten.  It 
was  a  point  of  some  importance,  and  migiit  be  defended.  Some 
one  mentioned  its  strength  to  the  terrified  conmiander.  Immedi- 
ately a  squadron  of  men,  composed  of  volunteers  and  Home  Guard, 
under  young  Lieutenant  Vatlin,  was  sent  out  to  guard  the  bridge. 
Pickets  were  stationed  on  all  the  roads  leading  into  the  town,  for 
no  one  seemed  to  have  the  least  idea  from  what  direction  Morgan 
would  approach. 

Men,  women,  and  children  thronged  the  streets,  hurrying  to  and 
fro  with  no  definite  object  in  view,  except  to  hear  the  news. 
Stores,  groceries,  shops,  all  were  closed — their  alarmed  proprietors 
swaying  to  and  fro  with  the  moving  crowd.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  a  drachm  of  medicine  could  have  been  secured  for  a 
dying  man. 

Hour  after  hour  of  fearful  suspense  rolled  by,  and  yet  no  enem^ 
came.  Half-past  eleven  o'clock  at  night  a  man  dashed  into  the 
town,  saying  Morgan  was  at  the  bridge,  only  six  miles  out.  The 
guard  had  fired  upon  him,  and  he  was  in  full  retreat.  This  calmed 
the  fears  of  the  over-credulous,  and  some  of  the  weary  watchers 
ventured  to  retire. 

But  the  Federal  commander  had  too  high  an  appreciation  of 
Colonel  Morgan's  courage  to  suppose  that  the  force  at  the  bridge 
could  thus  easily  ])ut  him  to  flight.  So  he  ordered  two  men  to 
accompany  Lieutenant  Fiddler  to  the  bridge,  and  ascertain  the 
true  state  of  affairs  and  report  immediately. 

This  Lieutenant  Fiddler,  a  pettifogging  lawyer,  who  used  to 
"  fiddle"  on  every  possible  occasion  in  all  matters,  whether  of  church 
or  State,  finding  his  profession  wholly  unremunerative,  *'had  en- 
listed," to  use  his  own  words,  '-under  his  country's  glorious  ban- 


OF   MORGAJ^    AJND    HIS   MEN.  171 

ner,  to  serve  his  country's  glorious  cause.''  He  was  of  medium 
heiglit,  slim,  red-haired,  and  self-important.  He  had  volunteered 
his  services  on  this  momentous  occasion  as  aid  to  Colonel  Johnston. 

Mounted  upon  his  charger, -with  a  splendid  navy  pistol  at  his 
side,  he  da>hed  otl'  amid  tiie  darkness,  accompanied  hy  his  body- 
guard of  two,  to  see  how  matters  stood  at  the  bridge.  Inllated 
with  a  sense  of  Ids  own  imjjortance,  lie  spurred  on  at  break-neck 
speed  towards  the  accomplishment  of  his  momentous  mission. 

He,  with  his  two  aids  clo^e  beside  him,  was  ascending  a  hill  a 
few  hundred  yards  from  New  Market,  when  the  three  were  very 
unexpectedly  ordered  to  halt  by  the  advance  guard  of  Morgan's 
brigade.  The  fiddling  lieutenant  debated  not  a  moment.  "Wheel- 
ing his  horse  about,  he  started  out  under  whip  and  spur  for  Leba- 
non, followed  by  his  panting  attendants.  Shots  came  whizzing 
around  their  ears.  The  clatter  of  the  pursuing  horsemen  gresv 
every  moment  nearer.  He  strained  his  failing  steed  to  the  utmost. 
Already  he  was  distanced  by  his  body-guard,  and  solus  he  was 
urging  on  his  fearful  gallop,  when  two  of  the  dreaded  foe  dashed 
by  him  and  cut  otf  further  retreat.  Appropriating  horse,  equip- 
ments, and  revolver,  they  gave  him  i)arole  and  left  him  to  his  fate. 

Two  miles  from  this  the  Confederates  encountered  the  pickets, 
-which  were  readily  driven  back  upon  the  main  body.  Morgan 
sent  forward  scouts  to  ascertain  tlie  enemy's  position  and  num- 
bers. They  reported  a  small  force  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle  two 
miles  ahead.  Advancing,  he  dismounted  and  de[>loyed  two  com- 
panies to  attack  the  enemy  on  the  left  and  right. 

Rapidly,  j'et  silently,  the  men  marched  on.  They  were  not  dis- 
covered until  they  were  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  Johnston's 
comuiand,  when  they  were  fired  upon  by  the  Federals.  They 
rushed  forward  and  returned  the  fire  with  a  well-directed  volley, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  mounted  men  da-hed  uj)  in  front. 

A  general  panic  seized  the  enem}',  and  casting  aside  guns  and 
every  thing  that  could  impede  their  race,  they  set  out,  pell-mell,  in 
full  retreat  along  the  road,  over  fences,  through  fields  and  wood- 
lands, each  one  striving  witii  strained  nerve  to  make  the  best  time 
back  to  the  town.  Two  of  their  men  lay  dead  upon  the  field, 
others  were  wounded  so  severely  that  tliey  had  to  be  left.  The 
Confederates  pressed  on  after  the  fleeing  enemy.  In  a  few  min- 
utes Colonel  Johnston  and  sixty-five  out  of  his  force  of  eighty  men 
were  prisoners.     Only  thirteen  escaped. 

Colonel  Morgan,  at  the  head  of  liis  brigade,  entered  the  town 
without  further  opposition.     He  was  welcomed  by  many  with  evi- 


172  EAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

dent  manifestations  of  joy.  Taking  immediate  possession  of  the 
telegraph  office,  he  learned  tliat  the  00th  Indiana,  under  C<»l<»nel 
Owens,  had  been  dispatched  from  the  Junction  to  reinforce  John- 
ston. 

An  order  was  given  to  Mnjor  Gano,  of  t))e  Texas  Rangers,  to 
proceed  with  a  company  and  destroy  the  railroad  bridge  on  the 
Lebanon  brand),  thus  preventing  the  troops  from  reaching  the 
town.  This  was  successfully  accomplished  by  this  young  and 
daring  officer. 

They  were  now  fully  secured  from  all  attacks,  and  the  few  re- 
maining hours  of  the  night  were  spent  in  rest. 

Early  next  morning  Morgan  threw  out  pickets  on  every  road, 
and  then  proceeded  to  the  work  of  inspecting  the  depots,  with  their 
stores  of  sugar,  coffee,  flour,  bread,  guns,  caj)s,  cartridges,  powder, 
boots,  shoes,  hats,  etc.  Not  wishing  wilfully  to  sacritice  tliese 
immense  commissary  stores,  he  made  known  to  the  people  his  in- 
tention to  divide,  among  those  that  needed,  such  portions  of  the 
captured  articles  as  they  luight  desire.  Great  was  the  rush  to  the 
depots  from  every  quarter.  Men,  women,  and  children,  with  wheel- 
barrows, baskets,  buckets,  and  every  available  means  of  transpor- 
tation, crowded  the  depot  to  receive  a  share  of  the  general  spoil. 
Sngar,  coffee,  and  flour  were  distributed  with  a  generous  hand  by 
the  soldiers  aj)pointed  for  the  purpose. 

'■'■  Come,  boys,"  said  Colonel  St.  Ledger  Grenfel,  who  was  charged 
with  V^ie  burning  of  the  depots  ;  ''come,  we  must  do  our  work,  the 
day  passes.  Get  your  torches.  We  are  going  to  have  a  grand 
bonfire,  of  which  Uncle  Sam  will  pay  the  expenses.  We  have  fed 
the  hungry  and  administered  to  the  wants  of  the  needy,  and  now 
"we  must  commit  this  surplus  to  the  flames.  But  first,  boys,  take 
for  yourselves  all  you  desire.  You  are  entitled  to  it  by  right  of 
capture.     Come,  boys,  to  work.'' 

The  ordef  was  scarcely  given,  before  the  boys,  eager  ft)T  the  on- 
dertaking,  rushed  in  and  fired  the  building  at  a  dozen  points. 

"Now,  Captain  Koberts,  you  proceed  with  your  men  to  the 
ordnance  dei)artment,  and  do  likewise.'* 

With  alacrity  the  command  followed  their  leader,  and,  after 
having  secured  such  arms  as  the  colonel  had  designated,  for  the 
arming  of  new  recruits,  the  men  da>hed  into  the  depot,  gathered 
up  armfuls  of  guns,  and  proceeding  with  them  to  the  nearest  avail- 
able point,  would  batter  them  over  rocks  until  they  were  bent 
double;  others  would  pound  them  with  heavy  stones,  thns  render- 
ing the  locks  entirely  useless.     It  was  a  scene  of  the  greatest  activ- 


OF   MOEGAN    AND    UI3    MEN.  173 

ity.  The  boys  would  clieer  each  other  witli  song:  and  jest,  and  kind- 
ly wonl,  while  the  citizens,  who  grouped  round  them,  joined  in  the 
meiTinient  luid  hiughtt-r,  irrespective  of  old  javjudices.  Cartridge- 
boxes,  kegs  of  powder,  cases  (»f  caps  and  guns,  were  indiscrimi- 
nately thrown  into  a  stream  that  run  outside  of  the  town,  which 
precluded  forever  their  recovery  by  the  Yankees. 

It  was  laughable  to  see  the  many  and  ready  transformations  ef- 
fected by  the  boys,  who,  amid  tl«e  roaring  of  laughter,  stepped 
forth  metamorphosed  into  Lincoln  soldiers.  Every  man  who  de- 
sired, provided  iiimself  with  a  full  Yankee  outfit — pants,  coat,  hat, 
bouts,  and  gun. 

All  instructions  having  been  obeyed,  the  order  rang  out,  '*Now 
fire  the  buildings,  boys."  In  aa  instant,  twenty  men  rushed  in 
and  applied  the  burning  brand. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  the  flames,  crackling  and  hissing, 
leaped  from  point  to  point,  until  the  two  large  houses  were  wrap- 
ped in  a  glaring  sheet  of  fire.  As  the  boys  stood  gazing  on  the 
fearful  and  sublime  scene,  they  sent  up  shout  after  shout  of  tri- 
ainph,  their  pealing  voices  rising  high  above  the  crashing  noise  of 
falling  timbers  and  the  hissing  tongues  of  fiery  flame. 

Colonel  Morgan  had  reserved  for  himself  the  superintendence  of 
the  destructi(»n  of  tlie  large  hospital  with  jts  stores.  Taking  with 
kim  A  detaciiment  of  picked  men,  among  whom  were  Charley, 
Brent,  Curd,  Irving,  and  Hawkins,  he  proceeded  to  have  removed 
to  places  of  safety  and  comfort,  the  few  Federal  sick  that  there 
were  contained  in  it.  Gently,  as  a  brother,  he  provided  for  their 
wants.  He  remembered  that,  though  foes,  they  were  helpless; 
though  seeking  to  destroy  his  life,  they  were  suffering  human  be- 
ings. When  the  last  man  was  beyond  danger,  the  hospital  was 
fired.  Simultaneously  with  this,  tlie  torch  was  applied  to  the 
wagons  and  ambulances,  and  the  flames  from  these  two  points, 
combined  with  those  from  the  burning  depots,  gave  fb  the  scene 
an  aspect  of  wild  and  terrible  sublimity.  Colonel  Morgan  remain- 
ed long  enough  to  see  tfiat  iiis  purposes  were  fully  executed.  Then, 
mounting  his  horse,  he  dashed  out  of  the  devoted  town,  followed 
by  his  jubilant  command,  and,  lighted  by  the  wild,  red  flames, 
pursued  his  way  to  Springfield. 

Cliarley  obtained  permission  to  pass  the  night  with  his  aunt, 
Mrs.  Payne,  who  resided  a  few  miles  fn)m  Lebanon.  There  he 
met  with  young  Spalding,  who  had  ju-^t  returned  from  Louisville. 

Tlie  two  being  old.  tried  friends,  having  been  educated  together 
at  Bardstou,  were  delighted  to  meet  again.*   Spalding,  in  the  ingen- 


174  EAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

iiouj:nes9  of  his  soul,  recited  to  Charley  all  the  intelligence  he 
possessed,  giving  a  lengthy  and  most  minute  descrijjtion  of  the 
elegant  party  at  Mr.  IT.'s.  Most  of  Charley's  friends  had  been 
|)resent  on  that  occasion,  and  the  gay  young  man  deemed  he  could 
select  no  topic  of  equal  interest.  When  he  dwelt  on  the  increasing 
devotion  of  Captain  Morton  to  Mary  Lawrence,  and  the  certainty 
of  their  speedy  marriage,  Charley's  lieart  ceased  its  beatings,  his 
soul  was  pierced  as  with  barbed  arrows. 

''  And  so  you  think  they  will  be  married,  Ben  ?"  he  asked,  with 
a  mighty  effort  to  control  himself,  while  he  felt  as  one  who  asked 
for  his  own  death-sentence. 

"No  doubt  of  it,  Charley.  The  city  is  full  of  the  rumor;  in- 
deed, it  creates  a  great  deal  of  gossip,  as  Miss  Mary  has  hitherto 
been  considered  unalterably  opposed  to  every  thing  Federal,  even 
so  stringent  in  her  views,  as  to  seek  the  middle  of  the  street,  ratlier 
than  walk  under  the  old  flag.  And  then  she  has  a  brother  John, 
her  only  brother — by  the  by,  is  he  here  with  you  ? — in  the  Confed- 
erate service.  Her  friends  are  astonished  at  her  course,  and  some 
blame  her  in  unsparing  terms.  But  Morton  is  rich,  you  know,  and 
a  very  fascinating  fellow  in  his  manner  ;  but,  in  my  judgment,  by 
no  means  worthy  of  Miss  Lawrence.  You  know  his  habits  are  very 
loose,  and  no  one  gives  him  credit  for  patriotism  in  donning  the 
Yankee  uniform.   He  only  desired  to  be  important,  the  w^orld  says." 

Charley  made  no  reply  to  the  remarks  of  his  friend.  He  dare 
not  trust  himself  with  words.  The  last  ray  of  hope  was  gone. 
Shipwrecked  on  life's  sea,  he  was  lost,  forever  lost.  The  future, 
rayless  darkness;  the  present,  a  Pron:iethean  fire;  the  past,  a  tan- 
talizing dream.  Deceived,  betrayed,  wrecked  by  the  beautiful 
idol  of  his  soul,  whom  his  pure,  trusting  heart  had  worshipped 
with  more  than  earthly  devotion,  henceforth,  the  world  to  him 
must  prove  a  cold,  barren  waste,  life  a  weary  weight,  which  must 
be  borne  as  the  prisoner  does  his  galling,  clanking  chains. 

In  torturing  thought  the  night  was  spent.  The  following  morn- 
ing found  him  in  the  saddle,  ready  to  start  forward  to  join  the 
command.  He  waited  not  to  bid  adieu  to  his  friends.  He  felt  all 
earthly  ties  snapped  forever.     Henceforth,  he  would  court  death. 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  175 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ONWARD    MOVEMENTS. 

Captain  Jack  Allen  hnd  been  dispatched  from  Barren  river 
■with  three  companies,  to  destroy  the  bridge  over  Salt  river  at 
Shepardsville.  But,  before  reaching  his  destination,  he  was  en- 
countered by  a  force  that  had  been  sent  from  the  Lebancm  Junc- 
tion to  reinforce  Johnston  at  Lebanon.  After  a  sharp  engagement, 
he  was  repulsed  with  the  loss  of  one  man  killed,  lie  then  pro- 
ceeded to  Springfield,  where  he  rejoined  Cohmel  Morgan,  who  had 
moved  to  this  point  after  the  capture  of  Lebanon.  From  liere 
Captain  Allen  advanced  with  a  squad  of  men  to  Taylorsville,  from 
whence  he  sent  forward  a  small  force  under  Captain  Champ  Fer- 
guson in  the  direction  of  Shelbyville,  in  order  to  menace  Frank- 
fort, thereby  preventing  reinforcements  being  sent  from  this  place 
to  Lexington  or  Paris. 

At  Shelbyville,  when  it  became  known  that  Morgan's  men  wero 
in  the  vicinity,  the  wildest  confusion  prevailed.  Here,  as  at  Le- 
banon, the  most  conflicting  rumors  ran  riot  through  tiie  streets. 

'^ Morgan  is  assuredly  marching  on  Shelbyville,"  cried  out  one. 

^'It  is  so,  for  a  reliable  gentleman  has  just  seen  bis  men  only  a 
few  miles  from  the  town." 

''He  is  coming  from  Taylorsville  on  the  Mount  Eden  road,  and 
no  mistake,"  asserted  another. 

A  few  minutes  more,  and  a  man,  breathless  with  excitement, 
dashed  into  the  town,  declaring  •'  he  himself  had  seen  Morgan's 
men,  and  their  horses'  heads  were  set  towards  Shelbyville,  and 
they  would  be  there  in  a  few  minutes — half  an  hour  at  the  outside." 
This  time  he  was  approaching  from  the  direction  of  Louisville. 

''  He  is  on  his  way  to  Frankfort,  and  must  necessarily  pass 
through  here,"  argued  another.  And  thus  it  was  settled,  Shelby- 
ville, par  necessite,  must  receive  a  visit  from  the  dreaded  chieftain. 

The  funds  were  hastily  extracted  from  the  bank  vault,  and 
dispatched  under  strong  escort  to  Louisville.  The  Home  Guard 
were  called  upon  to  defend  the  place.  In  the  most  hurry-skurry 
manner  that  could  be  conceived,  they  hastened  to  arm  themselves, 


176  EATDS    AJ<rD  EOMANCE 

and  fifter  much  more  noise  and  confusion  than  a  skilful  general 
would  liave  made  in  preparing  an  army  for  battle,  they  finally 
succeeded  in  forming  themselves  into  something  like  an  orderly 
line,  and  stood  prepared  to  meet  the  impending  crisis. 

Men  flocked  to  the  town  to  hear  the  news,  each  one  receiving 
a  different  statement  from  every  informant  he  met.  The  day 
wore  on — every  hour  the  excitement  grew  more  and  more  intense. 
And  by  the  early  evening  it  was  asserted  as  a  fact,  beyond  the 
shadow  of  doubt,  that  Morgan,  with  hundreds  of  men,  was  withia 
a  few  miles  of  the  place,  and  would  be  upt)n  it  directly.  At  this 
intelligence  the  Home  Guard  suddenly  broke  ranks,  and  fled  in 
every  possible  direction,  never  for  a  moment  slackening  their 
pace  until  they  were  assured  that  danger  no  longer  beset  them. 

Henry  F.  Middleton,  a  most  rabid  Lincolnite,  editor  of  the  town 
sheet  called  the  Weekly  News — every  issue  of  which  dealt  out 
the  most  unsparing  abuse  of  the  North,  and  of  all  that  pertained 
thereto — hastily  gathered  u[)  his  family  and  valuables,  and,  with- 
out waiting  to  procure  a  more  suitable  conveyance,  jumped  into  a 
furniture  car,  with  some  free  darkies,  drove  off  at  lightning  speed, 
and  never  halted  until  he  was  fifteen  miles  from  the  enemy. 

A  council  was  called  to  see  what  was  best  to  be  done  under  this 
most  alarming  exigency.  The  defenders  of  the  town  had  fled — 
the  editor  was  oft'  with  his  valuables,  many  of  the  prominent 
Union  men  of  all  ages  were  gone,  no  one  knew  whither — every- 
body was  panic-striken.  What  could  be  done  but  surrender  the 
place  to  this  formidable  chieftain?  After  much  debate,  it  was 
decided  that  this  slionld  be  done,  and  two  of  the  council  were 
proposed  as  fit  personages  to  set  out  under  a  flag  of  truce,  to  meet, 
the  dreaded  hero,  and  tender  him  possession  of  the  place. 

And  now  the  question  arose,  ''who  should  go?"  Here  was  a 
dilemma.  Union  men  were  afraid  to  venture.  Southern  men 
said  it  was  a  matter  of  no  moment  to  them  whether  the  town  was 
given  up  or  not.  They  did  not  fear  John  Morgan  and  his  men, 
and  if  he  chose  to  take  the  place,  they  were  content. 

Finally,  after  much  ado,  a  Southern  man,  who  had  enjoyed  the 
sport  to  his  greatest  satisfiction,  and  who  felt  his  heart  moved 
with  compassion  for  the  helpless  women  and  children  so  nearly 
dead  with  fright,  consented  to  be  one  of  the  flag-bearers.  But 
now  a  new  difficulty  arose.  The  few  loyal  men  left  did  not  know 
bow  to  get  up  a  flag  fur  the  occasion.  '*  They  wanted  no  mistake 
about  it — Morgan  was  a  terrible  man,  mighty  particular,  and  must 
have  things  done  upon  the  square." 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MLN.  177 

\  The  ladies  were  itnportuned  to  assist  in  finding  a  suitable  emblem 
of  submission,  and  tiu:illy  succeeded  in  procuring  one  that  satis- 
fied the  mo>t  faint-hearted  Union  ct>\vard. 

Out  went  the  truce-bearers,  followeil  by  tiie  prayers  and  tears 
<»f  the  anxious  multitude.  On  tliey  rode,  bearing  high  aloft  their 
iniMi:iouI:ite  ensign. 

Pursuing  the  route  of  the  reported  approach,  they  passed  on, 
mile  after  mile;  but  no  enemy  appeared.  Strange,  wild  stories 
met  them  at  every  step.  But  nothing  could  be  credited.  Feel- 
ing, at  last,  that  they  had  pursued  tho  fleeing  phantom  far  enough, 
they  wheeled  their  horses,  and  galloped  buck  to  town  to  relieve 
tiie  fears  of  the  friends  who  awaited  their  return  in  torturing 
suspense. 

Meanwhile,  Colonel  Morgan  was  quietly  pursuing  his  way 
through  Si»rin*gfield  to  Macksville,  where  he  arrived  late  in  the 
evening.  Here  he  rested  for  a  while,  and  here  was  attacked  by 
the  Hnme  Guard,  who,  after  the  exchange  of  a  few  ^hots,  were 
routed — not,  however,  until  they  had  severely  wounded  one  of 
his  men,  and  taken  two  others  prisoners. 

Mi)rgMn,  finding  two  of  his  boys  captives  in  the  hands  of  the  en- 
emy, determined  not  to  leave  the  place  until  they  were  recovered. 

Seizing  upon  two  of  the  most  prominent  Union  men  in  the  little 
town,  he  made  it  known  that  they  should  not  be  released  until  his 
men  were  restored.  This  had  the  expected  effect,  and  early  the 
next  morning  the  two  missing  men  found  their  way  to  camp. 

From  Macksville  a  detachment  was  thrown  across  the  country 
to  the  Lebanon  pike,  to  threaten  Danville  from  the  southwest. 

'•Tliis  looks  but  little  like  getting  to  Louisville,"  said  Charley, 
despairingly,  to  Lawrence  and  Brent,  as  the  three  paused  for  a  few 
minute>''  rest  beneath  the  shade  of  an  old  sycamore-tree  that 
stood  by  the  roadside.  He  sighed  deeply,  while  his  expression 
grew  noticeably  sad. 

''  Oh,  don't  be  so  down-hearted,"  remonstrated  Brent.  "  Why, 
Charley,  you  have  grown  to  be  the  unhappiest  of  luckless  wights. 
What  has  wrought  such  a  change  in  you?  You  were  formerly  full 
of  spirit  and  fun,  but  now  you  are  spiritless,  and  full  of  sighs  and 
sorrows.  You  haven't  smiled  half  a  dozen  times  since  it  wa3 
known  that  we  were  turning  back  into  Kentucky.  You  must  be 
8'»rry  at  the  promise  of  getting  home.  Come,  come,  you  must 
rally,  my  friend.  Never  mind  the  sweetheart  now.  We  must 
whip  the  Yankees  first,  achieve  our  independence,  and  then  woo 
and  win  the  fair  Desdemona." 


178  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

Charley  paled,  then  reddened  atxhe  remarks  of  his  friend.  Did 
Brent  know  his  secret?  How  could  he  have  heard  it?  If  not, 
wlij  should  he  have  spoken  as  he  had  just  done  ?  He  endeav- 
ored to  reply,  but  could  only  stammer  out  a  few  incoherent  words, 
while  his  color  deepened,  and  his  whole  manner  became  con- 
fused. 

••  Caught,  Charley,  caught,  my  boy,"  exclaimed  young  Morgan, 
who,  with  Curd  and  Irving  and  two  others,  had  joined  the  group 
under  the  tree.  "  You  need  not  deny  it.  We  all  see  you  are  in 
love,  and  desperately  too.  Xow  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  tell 
us  all  about  the  fair  one.  We  will  sit  here  on  this  grass,  and  listen 
to  your  tale  of  love  and  trial,  and  perhaps  we  will  all  relate  our 
stories." 

'•Capital  suggestion,  Cal.  What  say  you,  Charley?"  called 
out  young  Curd,  as  he  dismounted,  and  throwing  his  bridle  rein 
over  his  horse's  neck,  seated  himself  on  a  projecting  root  of  the 
tree.  "I  sympathize  with  you,  Charley,  for  I  too  remember  well 
a  dark  eyed  girl  of  Lexington.  Cal.,  you  can't  appropriately 
laugh  at  Charley.  You  are  wild  now  to  get  back  to  see  your  lady- 
love.    Remember  your  fancies,  at  Lebanon." 

"  Come,  Ed.,  you  are  not  going  to  betray  me.  Don't  you  know 
yon  are  masonically  bound  to  keep  my  love  affairs  secret?" 

'•  Oh  no,  Cal.,  I'll  not  betray  you  ;  but  I  have  no  idea  of  laugh- 
ing Charley  out  of  his  spurs,  when  I'd  venture,  if  the  truth  was 
known,  we  are  all  in  the  same  fix." 

''  Don't  doubt,"  interposed  Irving.  '•  I  own  up  to  the  weak- 
ness." 

''But,  boys,  you  have  the  advantage  of  Charley  and  myself," 
interposed  Lawrence.  "  Y"ou  expect  very  soon  to  be  at  home, 
where  you  can  enjoy  the  delectable  society  of  your  lady-loves, 
while  we  have  not  the  most  remote  prospect  of  such  happiness." 

"Oh,  don't  speak  so  discouragingly  of  our  chances,  Lawrence," 
ejaculated  Brent,  rising  from  his  seat.  "There  is  hope  for  us. 
What  shall  we  do  when  we  get  to  Frankfort,  but  sweep  down  on 
Louisville?  The  good  people  there  will  wake  up  some  morning 
to  the  clatter  of  our  horses'  hoofs,  as  we  dash  along  its  sounding 
streets,  and  the  cry  will  ring  out  from  square  to  square,  'Louis- 
ville is  fallen  !  Louisville  is  fallen  !  John  Morgan  and  his  men  have 
sxot  possession  of  us  sinners  !'  " 

The  boys  shouted  in  wild  merriment  as  young  Brent  closed  his 
description. 

•'Come,  boys,  dismount^  and  refresh  yourselves  in  this  grateful 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN. 


179 


Phafle.  Wliy  do  you  set  perched  up  there  on  your  liorses  in  that 
burning  sun?" 

"Indeed,  boys,  we  must  hasten  on,"  replied  young  Morgan, 
taking  out  his  watch,  and  looking  at  the  liour.  ''  You  know  we 
must  pay  our  respects  to  tlie  Danville  Home  Guard  before  diimer." 

TVitii'je^t  and  laughter  the  detachment  of  thirty  sped  along, 
little  dreaming  of  the  wild  dread  their  approach  was  sending  into 
the  hearts  of  the  good  people  of  Danville. 


180  KAIDS    AND    EOMANCK 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


DANVILLE    AND    ITS    DEFENDERS. 


If  the  consternation  of  Lebanon  anfl  Shelbyville  was  great,  what 
shall  be  said  of  Danville,  that  seething  cauldron  of  Unionism? — 
the  birthplace  of  Colonel  Smith  Fry,  who,  with  brutal  coarseness, 
boasted  that  "  he  killed  Zollicoffer  V  and  of  General  Jeremiah  S. 
Boyle,  who  has  publicly  asserted  that  ''he  would  wade  through 
the  blood  of  his  wife  and  children  rather  than  this  rebellion  should 
succeed."  Glorious  patriots  !  How  approvingly  humanity  must 
laud  your  noble  sentiments  ! 

Colonel  Morgan's  de^ds  at  Lebanon  had  reached  the  anxious 
ears  of  the  Danvilians,  and  filled  their  hearts  with  terror.  They 
knew  their  guilt  in  oppressing  the  Southern  men  in  their  midst, 
and  while,  like  the  Babylonian  king,  they  saw  the  handwriting 
on  the  wall,  fear  seized  their  souls.  There  was  alarm,  anxiety, 
consternation,  depicted  on  every  face.  Fear  and  confusion  charac- 
terized every  movement. 

The  cry  went  out  for  "help,  help!"  The  captain  of  the 
Guard,  who  lived  two  miles  out  in  the  country,  on  receiving  the 
frightful  news  of  Morgan's  approach,  galloped  into  town  with  all 
the  dignity  befitting  his  position  and  the  momentous  crisis,  al- 
though it  required  but  a  glance  to  perceive  that  he  was  quaking 
within.  Runners  were  sent  to  and  fro  to  inform  the  Home  Guard 
to  assemble  immediately. 

Tlie  money  was  taken  from  the  bank,  deposited  in  an  express- 
wagon,  placed  in  charge  of  Mr.  Rice,  a  rabid  old  Unionist,  who, 
mounting  the  seat,  dashed  oflT  as  fast  as  the  horses  could  go  to- 
wards Lexington,  with  instructions  not  to  stop  short  of  Cincinnati. 
Ladies  gathered  together  their  silver  and  other  valuables,  and 
boxing  them  up,  dispatched  them,  post-haste,  to  a  place  oFsafety 
in  the  country.  They  buried  their  linen  and  bedding,  and  bidding 
a  hurried  adieu  to  their  homes,  jumped  into  carriages,  wagons, 
and  every  available  vehicle,  and  left  for  safer  points. 

Old  men,  whose  lieads  were  bleached  by  age,  suddenly  fired 


OF    MOUGAN    AND    IIIS    MEN.  1 8l 

"with  patriotism,  seized  their  iriins,  and  rushed  out  "to  defend  their 
homes  from  the  lawle>s  invader." 

Some  \va<;  facetiously  named  the  lieroic  hand  of  venerahle  sires 
"  The  Silver  Grays,'"  and  it  was  serio-comic  to  see  them  strutting 
around  armed  cap-a  pie. 

Through  the  desperate  exertions  of  the  bustling  captain,  mat- 
ters at  last  assumed  somewhat  of  form.  About  sixty  men  were 
assembled,  armed,  and  ready  ft)r  the  fray.  Pickets  were  thrown 
tiirwanl  on  tlie  Lebanon,  Perry ville,  and  Harrodsburg  roads. 

Morgan  was  advancing  u|)on  the  city,  no  one  knew  from  what 
point.  Here,  as  at  Shelbyville,  the  wildest  and  most  contradic- 
tory rumors  filled  the  streets.  Finally,  scouts  were  sent  out  to 
ascertain  the  truth  of  the  matter.  The  one  sent  forward  on  the 
Lebanon  ]>ike,  came  dashing  into  town  after  a  half  liour,  in  the 
highest  degree  of  excitement,  breathless  with  fear,  his  eyes  start- 
ing from  their  sockets,  and  his  whole  appearance  that  of  a  madman. 
"  He  had  seen  Morgan,  no  doubt  about  it,  and  his  men  covered 
the  whole  face  of  the  earth.  No  use  trying  to  hold  the  town — 
men  enough  to  take  away  every  house,  not  to  talk  about  people." 

When  this  most  alarming  intelligence  was  received,  the  town 
became  frantic.  Men  hurried  to  and  fro  as  if  an  evil  deity  had 
imposed  on  them  this  fearful  penance  to  expiate  some  dreadful 
crime.  Women,  pale  with  affright,  dashed  through  their  houses, 
seizing  on  any  thing  that  met  their  hands,  to  bear  it  off  to  some 
secure  point,  or  stood  hopelessly  despairing  at  front  doors  and 
windows  to  hear  the  latest  news.  Ciiildren,  following  the  example 
of  the  men  and  women,  drove  about  like  masqueraders  at  carnival. 
Hurried  ccmsulfations  were  held  at  every  corner  of  the  streets, 
but  no  one  could  tell  what  was  best  to  be  done.  At  length,  after 
much  general  debate,  it  was  decided  to  move  out  the  armed  force 
to  Dix  River  Cliffs,  and  there  fortify. 

This  point  was  six  miles  from  the  town,  and  in  a  direction  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  the  one  from  which  Morgan  was  expected. 
Accordingly,  this  gallant  land  of  patriots  darted  out  pell-mell, 
some  mounted,  some  on  foot,  to  begin  their  all-important  work  of 
'■'fortifying  Banrille^'^  six  miles  out,  and  fully  twelve  miles  from 
the  nearest  advance  of  the  enemy. 

During  this  last  scene,  to  the  ludicrousness  of  whicli  no  language 
could  do  justice,  some  Soutliern  boys,  who  had  been  hugely  en- 
joying the  fright  of  their  Union  neighbors  throughout  the  day, 
conceived  the  idea  of  heightening  the  effect  of  the^dinma. 

Understanding  that  the  '"  nolle  defenders'"' vievQ  to  march  out 


182  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

and  begin  nctive  preparations  for  the  erection  of  suitable  fortifica- 
tions, they  hired  some  negroes  to  follow  after  them  at  rapid  pace 
with  empty  wagons.  Then  setting  out  before  the  armed  heroes, 
the  boys  reached  the  Cliffs  first,  and  secreted  themselves  where 
they  could  hear  all  that  passed,  without  being  themselves  observed. 

On,  amid  the  deepening  twilight,  at  break-neck  speed,  the  brave 
band  moved  towards  the  river,  each  one  discoursing  on  the  mo- 
mentous crisis  that  had  overtaken  them.  Suddenly,  as  they  were 
nearing  their  Thermopyla3,  a  strange  and  fearful  sound  met  theii 
ears.  What  could  it  be?  they  asked  each  other  in  breathless 
anxiety.  Were  they  pursued  ?  Was  the  dread  enemy  hard  after 
them?     It  must  be  so.     Dreadful  thought! 

''Hist!  Hist,  boys,  be  quiet;  let  me  listen,"  said  one  of  their 
number — Jack  Webb,  by  name — a  very  important  personage,  in- 
deed, since  he  had  been  at  the  battle  of  Fishing  Creek.  "I  know 
all  these  war  sounds,  and  can  tell  in  a  minute  tije  noise  of  cannons, 
and  horses,  and  infantry,  and  all  such  things.  Stop,  men,  and  be 
right  still  while  I  listen.  I  can  soon  tell  whether  it  is  the  enemy 
or  not." 

Every  thing  halted  in  breathless  suspense.  Jack  stooped  down 
and  placed  his  ear  close  to  the  pike.  It  was  a  moment  of  fearful 
expectation. 

"Can't  tell,  boys,  yet;  sounds  mighty  like  the  enemy:  wait  a 
moment  till  it  comes  a  little  nearer." 

It  was  asking  a  great  deal  of  these  patriots  to  wait  until  the  en- 
emy should  get  a  little  nearer,  but  they  submitted  most  heroically. 

''  You  stop  here,  boys,  and  I'll  go  back  to  the  top  of  the  hill 
yonder.     Maybe  I  can  hear  better  there." 

Jack  had  gone  but  a  minute,  when  he  came  rushing  wildly  back, 
crying  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "Enemy,  boys — flying  artillery 
— enemy  upon  us  fast  as  they  can  dash  ;  no  mistake !" 

Just  then  the  report  of  several  pistol-shots  reverberated  along 
the  cliffs  to  their  right. 

"The  enemy  is  upon  us — every  man  look  out  for  himself!"  was 
the  order  of  tiie  terrified  captain. 

In  a  moment,  the  men  were  scattered  in  wild  confusion,  each 
one  rushing  for  dear  life  along  the  road  that  led  to  Nicholasville, 
twenty  miles  distant;  nor  did  they  stop  until  that  point  was  gain- 
ed. Never  was  there  a  more  inglorious  finale  of  warlike  prepara- 
tion for  defence.  Surely  the  bards  of  Danville,  through  all  com- 
ing time,  will. delight  to  sing  in  stirring  verse  the  heroic  deeds  of 
her  brave  defenders. 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  183 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A    LOOK    AT    LOUISVILLE. 

" Father,  father!  do  see  here!"  exclaimed  Mary  Lawrence, 
eagerly,  as  she  rushed  into  the  break  fast- room,  a  fuw  mornings 
after  the  party  ^  Mr.  H.'s.  Her  face  was  beaming  with  delight. 
The  soft,  auburn  curls  were  thrown  back  from  the  blue-veined 
temples,  her  cheeks  were  of  the  brightest  rose-hue,  while  her  largo, 
blue  eyes  spoke  out  from  their  soft  depths,  as  gladly  as  if  the  soul 
within  had  received  a  heavenly  inspiration.  With  her  bright,  airy 
morning-wrapper,  confined  at  the  waist  with  a  simple  sash  of  blue 
ribbon,  floating  out  on  the  breeze  as  she  entered  through  the  open 
door,  she  looked  more  like  a  Hebe  than  a  child  of  human  mould. 
'•'■  Here,  father,  here,  do  read  that,"  and  holding  the  paper  before 
liim,  while  she  threw  an  arm  around  his  neck,  she  called  his  atten- 
tion to  an  editorial  i)aragraph.  Pausing  a  .moment  for  the  father 
to  read  the  announcement,  she  exclaimed,  "  Isn't  that  glorious 
news?  John  Morgan  coming  into  Kentucky — coming  right  here 
to  Louisville,  and  will  bring  brother  and  all  our  friends  with  him  I 
Oh,  I  am  wild  with  delight.     What  a  blissful  time  we  shall  have!'* 

""But,  perhaps,  Colonel  Morgan  will  not  reach  Louisville,  my 
child,  even  if  he  should  come  into  the  State." 

"Oh,  yes  he  will,  father.  Don't  you  see  old  Prentice  is  scared 
out  of  his  wits  ;  and  that,  you  know,  is  a  fine  indication.  I  ara 
sure  the  Confederates  will  come  to  Louisville !"  And  Mary  clapped 
her  hands  and  commenced  to  waltz  gracefully  round  the  breakfast- 
table. 

''  Oh,  my  child,  do  not  grow  too  ecstatic,"  said  the  mother,  gaz- 
ing with  a  look  of  tender,  reproachful  love  upon  her  beautiful 
daughter.  ''  It  is  scarcely  possible  that  Colonel  Morgan  will  reach 
Louisville.  His  force  cannot  be  suflicient  to  take  the  city;  and, 
moreover,  there  is  nothing  here  to  induce  him  to  come.  I  judge 
the  object  of  his  visit  to  our  State  is  to  obtain  recruits  and  horses, 
neither  of  which  he  would  find  here." 

An  expression  of  sad  disappointment,  in  a  moment,  overspread 
the  young  girl's  face  and  manner.     She  threw  herself  into  her  ac- 


184  EAEDS   AXD   ROMANCE 

cnstomed  seat  at  her  motlier's  right,  .and  supporting  her  head  with 
her  hand,  while  her  elbow  rested  on  the  table,  looked  inquiringly 
into  her  motlier's  face. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  was  a  woman  of  most  excellent  judgment,  and 
lier  word  had  ever  been  law  with  her  household,  because  every 
member  of  the  family  daily  felt  her  superior  wisdom  and  justice. 
She  was  one  of  the  loveliest  of  women,  gentle,  kind,  thoughtful, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  firm,  decided,  even  unyielding  in  a  mutter 
oi right.  She  had  been  deeply  pious  from  her  earliest  girlhood,  and 
the  Spirit  of  all  grace  in  her  heart,  had  moulded  her  manner  and 
expression  of  face  into  sweet  conformity  to  Its  own  gentle  teach- 
ings. She  had,  for  a  long  while,  been  a  great  sflFerer,  her  bodily 
infirmities  increasing  with  each  year,  and  now  she  was  so  enfeebled 
as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  leave  her  house.  But,  while  thus  slowly 
passing  to  the  far-olF  land,  mid  pain  and  weakness,  she  grew  day 
by  day  strong  in  faith,  and  that  abiding  hope  which  irradiates  with 
heavenly  beauty  the  darkest  path  ever  pressed  by  the  weary  feet 
of  the  earth-pilgrim. 

''O,  father,  don't  you  think  Colonel  Morgan  will  come  here? 
He  has  so  many  Louisville  boys  with  him  ;  and  then  it  would  be 
such  a  satisfaction  to  us  Southern  people.  He  ought  to  come  to 
release  i>s  from  bondage,  if  nothing  more.  And  there  is  old  Pren- 
tice. Morgan  ought  to  have  him  and  ride  him  down  to  Dixie.  A 
trip  of  this  kind,  I  am  s<ure,  would  improve  his  morals.  Don't  you 
think  it  is  possi-ble  that  tiie  Southerners  may  come  here,  father?" 

''  No,  my  daughter.  You  need  not  revel  in  that  anticipation.  I 
am  convinced  they  will  visit  central  Kentucky,  remain  there  a 
short  time,  and  then  leave  the  State." 

"Too  bad — too  bad!"  ejaculated  Mary,  as  she  raised  the  cup  of 
coffee  to  her  li[)S  and  sip))ed  it.  Placing  it  nervously  back  in  the 
saucer,  she  looked  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  her 
face  lighted  up  with  the  new  ideas  that  flashed  through  her  mind, 
and,  smiling  to  herself,  she  again  sipi)ed  the  coffee,  and  glancing 
up  to  her  mother,  was  about  to  speak,  when  she  suddenly  checked 
herself  and  remained  silent. 

The  mother's  sweet,  sad  face  was  very  thoughtful.  Her  heart 
was  with  her  boy.  She  longed  to  see  him  once  more  before  her 
eyes  should  close  in  death.  She  knew  her  stay  on  earth  must  be 
brief:  that  before  the  flowers  should  fade,  and  nature  clothe  her- 
self again  in  the  emblems  of  death,  she  might  be  quietly  resting 
from  her  labors  beneath  the  green  hillock. 

The  father  folded  the  paper,  and  mechanically  placing  it  beside 
him,  fell  into  a  grave,  quiet  mood. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  185 

The  (loor-bell  rang.  Mary  started  nervously.  The  servant 
entered,  bearing  a  card  from  Captain  Morton,  and  handed  it  to  her 
young  mistress.  It  was  a  retjuest  for  the  pleasure  of  Miss  Law- 
rence's company  for  an  evening  ride.  An  apology  for  the  early 
intrusion  accompanied  the  note.  He  was  going  immediately  to 
the  country,  and  would  not  be  back  until  the  afternoon. 

"  Bring  me  my  escritoir,  Maria."  The  girl  obeyed  the  bidding. 
The  mother  looked  at  her  daughter  for  an  explanation.  Mary 
never  had  any  secrets  from  her  loved  parent — only  one  thing,  her 
engagement  with  Charley  R.,  had  she  ever  withheld. 

"From  Ca[)tain  Morton,"  she  answered  to  her  mother's  inter- 
rogatory look.  ^le  wishes  me  to  ride  with  him  this  evening  at 
five  o'clock," 

"And  will  you  go?" 

"  I  cannot,  mother  ;  I  have  other  plans."  The  servant  returned 
with  the  writing-desk.  Mary  took  from  it  a  card,  penned  a  deli- 
cate refusal,  and  enveloping  it,  dispatched  it  to  the  servant  in 
waiting  at  the  door. 

''Mother,"  said  the  young  girl,  breaking  the  silence  that  had 
reigned  for  several  minutes,  ''I  should  like  to  go  to  Frankfort  this 
evening." 

The  mother  looked  up  astonished  at  the  request. 

"  Go  to  Frankfort,  Mary !  when  that  courftry  will  be  filled  with 
armed  men  in  conflict!" 

''  Ah,  they  will  not  hurt  me,  mother  ;  I  have  no  fear.  I  wish 
so  much  to  see  brother  ;  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  do  so,  if  I  can  only 
get  into  central  Kentucky," 

'•  Would  you  go  alone,  my  daughter  ?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  am  sure  cousin  Frank  will  gladly  accompany  me. 
May  I  go  if  he  will  ?  Say,  father,  won't  you  consent?  You  know 
cousin  will  take  good  care  of  me." 

"I  don't  knoWj  Mary,  that  you  will  be  in  any  danger  in  going 
to  Frankfort;  but  I  do  not  think  you  will  get  to  see  your  brother." 

'•But  let  me  go.  May  I,  mother?  "What  do  you  say  ?  You 
won't  object,  I  know  ?" 

"You  must  first  see  if  your  cousin  Frank  will  go  with  you.  I 
could  not  permit  you  to  set  out  without  him." 

'•Oh,  I  will  go  and  see  him.  I  am  sure  he  will  be  delighted  to 
have  an  opportimity  to  take  a  lirtle  recreation." 

Mary  sjirang  from  the  table  and  ran  to  her  own  room,  enthusi- 
astic at  the  thought  of  accomplishing  the  plan  that  had  so  forcibly 
presented  itself  to  her  as  she  sat  tasting  her  coffeo. 


186  RAIDS   AND   KOMAXCE 

In  an  incredibly  short  time  she  was  bonneted  and  ready  to  se|; 
ont.     As  she  reached  tlie  door,  slie  encountered  C;iptain  Morton. 

His  face  was  clouded,  and  liis  look  one  of  unusual  sternness. 
'M.ary  started  back  as  she  beheld  him.  Recovering  herself,  she  in- 
vited him  into  the  parlor. 

"  I  wish  to  see  you  for  a  few  minutes  only." 

She  motioned  him  to  the  hall  sofa. 

"I  called,  Miss  Mary,  to  see  why  you  refused  to  ride  with  me 
this  evening.  It  is  tiie  first  time,  and  I,  of  course,  felt  surprised." 
He  fixed  a  penetrating  look  upon  her  as  he  spoke. 

Feeling  that  he  had  no  right  to  address  her  thus,  the  young  girl 
straightened  herself  up,  and  with  most  perfect  calmness  replied  : 

"  I  have  other  engagements  for  the  evening.  Captain  Morton. 
I  presume  this  explanation  will  suffice,"  and  she  compressed  her 
lips  and  assumed  an  air  of  hauteur  which  repelled  further  inquiry. 

The  color  rushed  to  the  face  of  the  excited  captain.  He  was 
foiled.  Seeing  and  fully  appreciating  the  liopelessness  of  any 
further  attempt  to  secure  a  satisfactory  explanation,  he  took  his 
hat  from  the  stand,  and,  bowing  stiffly,  left. 

Two  o'clock  came.  The  hour  found  Mary,  escorted  by  "  cousin" 
Frank,  at  the  depot,  ready  to  take  the  cars. 

"Poor  Lu  !  She  will  be  so  sorry  that  she  went  to  visit  her 
friends  in  Ohio,  when  she  hears  that  Morgan  has  been  in  the  State. 
She  set  out  yesterday  morning  for  Cincinnati.  Did  you  see  her, 
Frank  ?" 

''Only  in  passing.  She  has  not  been  to  see  us  since  the  party 
at  Mr.  H.'s.  I  have  met  her  on  the  street  once  since  then,  and 
she  only  bowed  coldly  and  passed  on.  Something  is  wrong  with 
her,  I  am  sure.  I  intended  to  go  out  and  see  her,  and  ask  her 
what  it  is  ;  but  mother,  you  know,  has  been  so  feeble  most  of  the 
time.  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  her.  Oh,  I  am  so  happy  she  is  better 
now!" 

The  car-whistle  sounded.  Mary  and  her  cousin  entered  and 
seated  themselves.  A  few  minutes  more,  and  they  were  merrily 
speeding  their  way  to  the  "  City  of  Hills." 


or   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  187 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 


THE    PANIC    INCREASES. 


Leaving  Macksville  on  Sunday  morning,  Colonel  Morgan  pressed 
forward  to  Harrodsburg,  which  point  he  reached  about  noon. 

As  the  column  rode  listlessly  along,  the  colonel  conversing  with 
Captain  Duke  and  Colonel  St.  Ledger,  on  their  recent  successes 
and  future  plans,  Morgan's  keen  eye  discerned  in  the  distance  two 
suspicious-looking  horsemen.  Calling  upon  Captain  Castleman, 
be  ordered  him  to  take  four  men  witii  him  and  pursue. 

The  five,  driving  the  rowels  deep  into  the  sides  of  their  horses, 
dashed  forward.  They  had  been  gone  but  a  siiort  time  before 
they  were  seen  returning,  bearing  with  them  as  prisoners  a  Federal 
captain  and  lieutenant. 

On  reaching  Harrodsburg,  Colonel  Morgan  found  that  the  Home 
Guard  from  all  that  section  of  the  country  had  fled  to  Lexington. 
'Eeceiving  no  encouragement  from  the  citizens  to  protect  them, 
and  deeming  their  own  personal  safety  could  be  far  better  secured 
by  flight  than  fight,  they  had  precipitately  set  ofif  at  the  first  note 
of  alarm. 

The  whole  population  of  the  town  turned  out  to  welcome  Mor- 
gan and  his  gallant  men.  Ladies  and  children  appeared  on  the 
streets  to  hail  them  as  friends.  Handkerchiefs  were  waved  from 
every  window,  and  bouquets,  arranged  with  artistic  taste,  were 
showered  upon  their  passing  ranks.  Smiles,  cheers,  and  pleasant 
words  met  them  everywhere. 

Gaining  the  public  square.  Colonel  Morgan  ordered  his  men  to 
halt  and  alight.  In  a  moment  the  boys  were  surrounded  by  men, 
women,  and  children,  eager  to  shake  their  hands  and  present  them 
with  every  token  of  sympathy  and  respect. 

The  few  Union  individuals  in  the  town,  whether  from  policy  or 
admiration,  vied  with  their  neighbors  in  acts  of  kindness  and  re- 
gard. 

The  scene  was  like  a  grand  holiday  occasion,  where  every  one, 
happy  himself,  felt  it  a  pleasure  to  contribute  to  the  happiness  of 
•verv  one  he  met. 


18  S  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

The  men  were  invited  into  private  liouses  to  dine,  and  when 
they  refused,  because  of  their  dusty  and  neglected  appearance, 
ba>kets,  laden  with  the  nicest  edibles,  were  sent  out  in  tiie  great- 
est profusion.  There  was  scarce  a  housekeeper  in  all  the  town  who 
did  not  that  day  prepare  some  daint}^  for  "  Morgan's  men."  And 
an  old  Ufiion  man,  who  had  hitherto  trembled  at  the  very  name 
of  Morgan,' providing  himself  with  a  basket  of  the  best  his  wife's 
pantry  could  afford,  went  in  person  to  present  it  to  the  dreaded 
chieftain,  who  received  it  with  such  a  pleasant  smile  and  polite 
bow,  as  completely  won  the  lifelong  admiration  of  old  Mr.  Sa- 
vant. 

After  having  partaken  of  the  kindly  cheer  of  the  good  people 
of  ^arrod^burg,  Colonel  Morgan  set  out  for  Lawrenceburg,  twenty 
miles  distant.  In  the  mean  time,  he  had  sent  forward  a  detach- 
ment to  threaten  Frankfort  on  the  left,  and  another  to  menace 
Nicholasvilie  on  the  rigiit. 

The  whole  country  was  in  an  uproar — Frankfort,  Lexington, 
Niciiolasville,  Lawrenceburg,  Ver.-ailles,  were  all  seriou.^ly  menaced. 
Tiie  Home  Guard  had  fled  in  tiie  wildest  confusion  from  the  minor 
towns,  and  concentrated  in  Lexington  and  Frankfort.  At  the 
latter  point  there  was  assembled  a  force  of  about  three  thousand 
Home  Guards  and  regular  troops.  Nicholasville  and  Versailles 
were  deserted.  The  shops  were  all  closed,  ^nd  the  citizens  awaited 
in  anxious  suspense  the  approach  of  the  formidable  column. 

In  Lexington  the  scene  was  widely  different.  Dispatches  had 
been  sent  to  Cincinnati  for  troops  to  assist  in  defending  the  place. 
All  business  was  suspended — the  stores  shut  up.  Persons  might 
be  seen  hurrying  to  and  fro  through  the  streets,  as  if  bestirred  by 
the  fearful  voice  of  an  earthquake.  Martial  law  was  proclaimed, 
and  every  man  found  on  the  street  was  immediately  placed  under 
arms. 

It  was  more  than  a  man's  life  was  worth  to  whisper  the  name 
of  Morgan.  A  citizens^  guard  was  organized,  and  authorized  to 
arrest  or  shoot  down  any  man  found  unarmed  on  the  streets,  so 
eager  was  their  thirst  for  the  blood  of  Southern  sympathizers. 

Various  rumors,  wholly  conflicting  with  each  other,  were  caught 
up  and  repeated  at  every  corner  of  the  streets  by  men  whose  fa- 
naticism manifested  it>elf  alone  in  curiosity  and  excitement. 

'•  Morgan  was  at  Midway  !  Moigan  was  at  Nicliolasvilie !  Mor- 
gan was  approaching  the  town  from  Versailles  !  Morgan  was  en- 
tering Harrod.sburg  !  Morgan  was  within  ^ix  miles  of  the  city  with 
ten  thousand  men  !" 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  189 

Then  came  tlie  tlirilliiig  tidiiijjs  that  tlie  fight  liad  commenced 
at  Frankfort.  What  should  be  (h)ne?  Couhl  troops  he  Jjpared 
for  poor  bt>iegfd  Fianktort  ?  If  men  were  sent,  might  not  the 
uli(|ijitous  Moig.in  suddenly  swoop  down  upon  Lexington?  The 
Eighty  titfh  Ohio,  under  Colonel  Sowers,  had  ja>t  reached  the  city 
from  Camp  Chase.  It  was  decided  to  dispatch  this  regiment  to 
the  relief  of  Frankfort.  But  one  company  mutinied  outright.  It 
was  more  than  they  had  bargained  for.  They  had  set  out  for  Lex- 
ington, and  would  iu)t  go  a  nule  further.  Tlie  officers  took  the 
matter  in  hand,  and  after  some  coaxing,  mixed  with  threats  and 
curses,  they  succeeded  in  bringing  the  men  to  the  point  of  ac- 
quiescence, and  off  the  troops  set,  at  railroad  dash,  for  Frank- 
fort. 

All  these  movements  being  made  known  by  telegraph  in  Louis- 
ville, that  great  city  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  the  most  ludic- 
rous confusion.  Troops  were  ordered  over  from  Jeffersonville ; 
regiments  were  recalled  from  the  Nashville  road;  bank  vaults 
were  robbed  of  their  contents,  which  were  inclosed  in  strong 
boxes  for  ready  shipment  across  the  river.  Drays  were  kept  la 
readiness  for  this  purpose  before  the  bank  doors.  The  greater 
portion  of  the  type  of  the  daily  press  was  packed  up,  and  landed 
safely  on  Indiana  soil.  Armed  men  were  rushing  about,  seemingly 
with  no  other  object  in  view  than  to  scare  timid  men  and  women 
out  of  their  senses.  Forces  were  hastened  to  the  Lexington  depot, 
but  scarcely  had  they  reached  there  before  the  order  was  coun- 
termanded, and  they  were  marched  back  again.  Headquarters 
were  besieged  by  crowds  of  pale  and  anxious  citizens,  eager  to 
catch  one  item  of  reliable  information.  The  streets  were  literally 
blockaded  by  the  rushing  mass,  all  on  the  qui  vive  for  intelligence 
from  Morgan. 

Cavalry  from  Nashville  dashed  through  the  crowded  streets, 
their  headlong  speed  and  clanging  swords  adding  to  the  already 
wild  furore. 

News  came  that  Morgan  was  at  Shelbyville,  and  would  be  at 
Louisville  that  night.  Then  ran  along  the  seething  multitude  the 
rumor  that  martial  law  had  been  proclaimed,  and  every  man  capa- 
ble of  bearing  arms  was  to  be  called  out  in  defence  of  the  city. 
This  soon  silenced,  to  a  great  extent,  the  crowded  streets.  Many 
of  the  Union  patriots  were  unwilling  to  risk  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  Confederate  bullets,  and  deemed  it  more  prudent  to 
retire  to  their  own  peaceful  dwellings,  and  there  keep  as  quiet  as 
their  excited  nerves  would  permit  them  to  do. 


190  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

During  the  grand  melee  Southern  sympathizers  looked  on  at  the 
farce  with  inward  saiisifaction.  They  did  not  tor  a  moment  believe 
that  Morgan  would  attack  the  city,  but  they  were  quite  willing 
that  their  Union  friends  should  think  so. 

While  this  fearful  panic  was  shaking  Louisville,  Frankfort,  and 
Lexington  to  their  centre,  giving  rise  to  numberless  ridiculous 
scenes.  Colonel  Morgan  was  quietly  pursuing  his  way,  as  we  have 
said,  from  Macksville,  through  Harrodsburg  to  Lawrenceburg. 

Keaching  this  latter  place  Sunday  night,  Morgan  remained 
until  his  scouts  came  in  from  Frankfort  and  other  points.  He 
then  proceeded  to  Versailles,  crossing  the  Kentucky  river  at 
Shryock's  ferry.  Here  he  found  the  boat  sunken  in  the  stream 
by  the  Home  Guard  as  they  moved  ou  in  their  ignominious  flight 
to  Lexington. 

About  sunset  on  Monday  evening  Colonel  Morgan,  at  the  head 
of  his  command,  entered  the  streets  of  Versailles,  twelve  miles 
distant  from  Lexington,  and  about  as  far  from  Georgetown. 

''  Here,  boys,  is  a  rich  prize,"  said  the  colonel  to  his  men,  as 
dashing  along  the  street  he  discovered  about  three  hundred  horses 
and  mules  belonging  to  the  Federal  government.  "If  any  of  you 
have  sorry  horses,  here  is  a  fine  opportunity  to  exchange  them  for 
better  ones.  Help  yourselves.  Uncle  Sam  will  not  dare  to  enter 
a  protest,  I  presume." 

The  little  band  was  now  situated  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy. 
At  Lexington,  on  their  immediate  right,  and  only  twelve  miles 
distant,  there  was  a  considerable  force  under  the  commandant  of 
the  post.  Brigadier-general  Ward.  At  Frankfort,  about  equi- 
distant on  their  left,  were  three  times  their  number  of  men,  some 
of  them  regular  troops.  Either  point  could  be  reinforced  at  a  few 
hours'  warning. 

Colonel  Morgan  fully  appreciated  the  danger.  He  ordered 
pickets  thrown  out  on  every  outlet  from  the  town,  and  command- 
ed that  his  men  should  hold  themselves  in  readiness  for  attack  at 
any  moment.  The  men  sat  sleeping  on  the  pavements,  tiieir 
bridles  resting  in  their  hand,  their  arms  beside  them,  ready  at  a 
moment's  warning  to  mount  and  meet  the  foe.  But  no  foe  came. 
He  was  glad  enough  to  be  left  to  act  on  the  defensive. 

At  dawn  on  the  following  morning,  the  command  was  ordered 
to  be  ready  in  an  hour  to  set  out  for  some  other  point.  Promptly 
the  command  was  obeyed,  and  as  the  sun,  climbing  up  the  sides 
of  the  morning,  threw  his  first  beams  over  the  summer's  land- 
scape, the  wlBDle  force  set  out  at  a  brisk  pace  for  their  unknown 


OF    MOKGAN    AXD    HIS   MEN.  191 

destination.  The  Lexington  boys  lioped  to  be  led  to  their  homes 
and  friends;  the  Louisville  boys  turned  their  anxious,  longing 
thou<;hts  towards  liiat  city. 

'•Not  to  Lexington  to-day,  boys,"  said  Captain  Castloman,  with 
a  sigh,  as  the  column  advanced  along  the  road  leading  to  Midway. 
''But,  I  do  hope  iwe  siiall  yet  have  an  o[)portunity  to  look  in 
on  our  friends  and  sweethearts  before  we  leave  tiiis  part  of  the 
State." 

"Really,  it  doesn't  look  much  as  if  we  shall,  Castleman,"  re- 
plie<l  Irving.  F«)r  my  part,  I  third:  I  shall  don  my  ^Lincoln  blue^^ 
and  try  my  hand  at  deceiving  the  Yankee  pickets.  What  say  you, 
Curd  and  Morgan  ?  Wouldn't  you  venture  this  much  to  see  those 
lovely  girls  you  were  speaking  of  a  day  or  two  ago?" 

'•Aye,  and  more  than  this,  Irving,  for  the  accomplishment  of 
an  object  so  desirable.  Just  insure  us  we  shall  see  those  angelic 
beings,  and  get  back  with  whole  bones,  and  we'll  risk  every  tiling. 
Won't  we,  Cal.  ?" 

"  Any  thing,  Curd,  short  of  grim  death  itself,"  responded  young 
Morgan. 

"Bur,  Morgan,  how  is  it — " 

''Hult!"  rang  along  the  line,  suddenly  breaking  in  upon  the 
yonng  men's  fancies  and  earnest  conversation. 

'•  Morgan  !"  called  out  an  aid,  dashing  to  the  rear.  ''  The  col- 
onel wants  his  brother  immediately." 

The  column -was  rapidly  nearing  the  Lexington  and  Louisville 
railroad.  Ccdonel  Morgan  had  been  informed  that  the  train  from 
Frankfort,  having  on  board  two  regiments  of  Federals,  would  be 
due  in  a  few  minutes,  and  he  determined  to  secure  it. 

Accordingly,  he  dispatched  a  squad  of  men  to  tear  up  the  track 
in  front.  Another  force  was  ordered  to  look  to  their  guns  and 
station  themselves  in  position  on  either  side  of  the  road ;  while 
yet  another  company  was  given  charge  of  the  howitzers,  which 
were  so  placed  as  to  fully  command  the  road  at  the  point  where 
it  was  supposed  the  cars  should  stop. 

Colonel  Morgan,  with  his  operator,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  repaired  to 
the  telegra{)h  office,  and  took  possession.  They  had  been  but  a 
few  minutes  there,  wlien  a  telegram  from  Lexington  came  flashing 
along  the  wires. 

'*  Is  it  safe  to  start  the  train  from  Lexington  ?  We  hear  Morgan 
is  on  the  road." 

''  All  safe — let  the  train  come,"  was  Ellsworth's  answer. 

Immediately  preparations  were  made  to  give  the  train  due  re- 


192  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

ception.  Bre.itlilessly  the  men  waited.  Drawn  np  in  line  of  bat- 
tle, ft»r  one  hour  they  stood  momentarily  expecting  the  prize.  But 
the  alarm  had  been  given,  and  the  trains  retraced  their  steps  in 
hot  haste — one  to  Lexington,  the  other  to  Frankfort. 

Being  convinced  that  the  enemy  had  been  warned,  and  that  noth- 
ing could  be  gained  by  longer  delay.  Colonel  Alorgan  moved  on 
towards  Georgetown.  As  he  neared  the  town,  he  was  informed 
that  some  Home  Guards  liad  assembled  to  dispute  his  entrance. 
He  halted,  and  sent  in  a  demand  for  surrender.  But  nowhere 
were  armed  men  to  be  found.  Like  their  copatriots  of  other 
I>laces,  they  had  precipitately  fled  to  Lexington  for  safety. 

At  Georgetown,  as  in  Ilarrodsburg,  shouts  of  welcome  greeted 
the  approach  of  tlie  Confederates.  Every  preparation  was  made 
by  the  citizens  to  entertain  them  in  a  manner  worthy  of  their 
chivalrous  deeds  and  gallant  daring. 

All  knew  and  appreciated  the  brilliant  record  these  noble  men 
had  made  in  defence  of  liberty  and  right,  and  they  dared  to  mani- 
fest their  approbation,  though  it  might  cost  them  their  freedom 
and  property. 

Union  men  were  everywhere  left  unmolested.  Many  had  fled, 
leaving  their  families  behind  them.  Some  remained,  willing  to 
trust  the  magnanimity  of  Colonel  Morgan,  whose  conduct  on  all 
occasions  had  taught  them  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear  at  the 
hands  of  Kentucky's  noble  son. 


OF   MOEGAI^   AND    HIS    MEN.  193 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

UNEXPECTED    HAPi'INESS. 

As  the  troops  were  passing  in  column  along  the  main  street  of 
the  town,  amid  the  glad  cheers  of  the  ladies  and  children  who 
everywhere  thronged  the  pavement,  Ciiarley's  attention  was  sud- 
denly arrested  by  hearing  his  name  pronounced  in  soft,  clear  tones. 

He  looked  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  sound  proceeded, 
and  discovered  a  group  of  females  standing  on  the  front  balcony  of 
one  of  the  houses  to  his  right.  One  was  slightly  in  advance  of 
the  others,  leaning  over  the  banister  and  waving  a  kandkerchief 
to  the  soldiers,  as  they  slowly  filed  along. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  simple  white  muslin,  confined  at  the  waist 
by  a  long  sash  of  blue  ribbon.  A  wreath  of  natural  flowers  gar- 
landed her  soft  auburn  curls. 

Charley's  heart  stood  still  as  his  eye  rested  on  this  beautiful 
female  figure,  so  like  that  of  Mary.  Bending  forward,  he  gazed 
earnestly  upon  it.  His  eyes  dilated  to  their  fullest  extent,  and  his 
lips  paled  with  fearful  anxiety.  Could  it  be  Mary?  Ah,  no — it 
was  injpos^ible.  Surely  he  was  mistaken  !  And  yet  so  like — that 
form,  those  curls,  that  sweet,  glad  face.  It  must  be — and  yet  how 
was  it  possible  ?  He  gazed,  and  gazed,  as  one  bewildered  by  some 
bright,  fascinating  object,  which  he  could  not  comprehend,  and 
yet  from  which  he  dare  not  turn. 

*'  Charley,  Charley !  don't  you  know  me  ?"  spoke  the  same 
sweet  tones. 

Ah,  that  voice — he  could  not  mistake  it.  It  must  be  Mary.  It 
could  be  none  other. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  spring  from  his  horse  and  clasp  her  to 
his  bosom — his  heart's  own  idol — the  day-star  of  his  destiny.  But, 
with  more  than  rush  of  Alpine  torrent,  came  the  frantic  thought, 
"Perhaps  she  is  already  another's!""  and,  turning  in  his  saddle, 
without  even  a  bow,  or  look  of  recognition,  he  passed  on.» 

Ah,  the  anguish  of  that  moment !  "What  words  can  portray  it? 
The  hopelessness  of  despair  crushes  the  human  heart,  and  wraps 
in  rayless  gloom  our  human  life;  we  sink — we  fall — prostrate,  wo 


194  KAIDS    A^D    R(.]«:ANCE 

iie  bleeding — but,  ah,  can  the  sufferer  tell  you  what  he  feels?  No 
human  utterances  can  describe  the  weight  i)f  unutterable  woe  that 
chains  the  victim  down  to  misery  worse  than  death  itself. 

As  may  be  imagined,  our  young  hero  knew  but  little  of  what 
transpired  after  this.  What  to  him  was  the  gay  pageant,  the  loud 
acclaim  of  the  joyous  multitude?  "What  to  him  that  men,  impelled 
by  admiration  for  all  that  ennobles  our  nature,  all  that  elicits  true 
and  undying  praise,  were  now  regarding  him  as  hero-deliverer? 
No  eulogy,  not  the  battle-trump  could  have  aroused  him  from  his 
deep,  dull  apathy.  He  moved  amid  the  living  throng  insensate  to 
its  tumultuous  applause. 

Au  hour  later,  and  Charley  lay  outstretched  on  the  college- 
green,  as  one  haunted  by  a  strange,  wild  dream.  He  looked  out 
on  the  beautiful  town  spread  out  before  him  ;  on  the  clear,  siiiiling 
sky  above;  and  then  away  on  the  charming  landscape,  bounded  by 
its  margin  of  green  woodland  that  encircled  the  town.  But  none 
of  these  things  gave  him  pleasure,  or  abated  for  a  moment  his 
deep,  mental  suffering. 

"Come,  Ch.irley,  come;  what  are  you  doing  here?  You  look 
more  dead  than  alive,  my  boy.  What's  the  matter  with  you? 
Get  up,  get  up.  Mary  says  she  wants  to  see  you,  as  soon  as  you 
can  get  there." 

Charley  gazed  with  an  expression  of  perplexed  inquiry  up  into 
his  friend's  face,  as  if  he  did  not  fully  comprehend  the  meaning  of 
his  words. 

"  Wants  to  see  me,  John  ?  Are  you  not  mistaken  ?"  Thea, 
pausing  a  moment,  he  asked,  slowly,  ''  Is  your  sister  married  ?" 

"Married,  Charley  !"  and  John  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "Pre- 
posterous, boy  !  You  are  certainly  crazy.  Here,  let  me  feel  your 
pulse  and  forehead.  You  must  have  brain-fever,  from  your  api)ear- 
ance.  This  July  sun  has  been  too  hot  for  you.  Come,  get  up, 
and  take  a  refreshing  bath  at  that  spring  yonder,  and  prepare 
as  fast  as  you  can  to  accompany  me  to  see  two  of  the  most  charm- 
ing girls  in  the  world." 

Charley  looked  up  again  into  the  face  of  his  friend  with  an 
expression  of  doubt  and  anxious  inquiry.  He  made  no  effort  to 
arise. 

"  You  are  too  weary  to  go,  Charley.  I  will  excuse  you  to 
Mary  ;  but  I  know  she  will  be  sorely  disappointed  in  not  seeing 
you." 

"Do  you  really  think  so,  John  ?  Don't  deceive  me,"  said  Char- 
ley, springing  up  as  if  animated  by  a  new  hfe.     "  I  had  thought 


OF   MORGAN    AND    UI3    MEN.  195 

yonr  sister  was  engaged  to  be  married,  and  would  not  care  to  see 
an  old  friend.'' 

''  Engaged  to  be  married  to  whom  ?"  exclaimed  the  brother,  in 
astonishment. 

''To  Fred  Morton." 

"Fred  Morton,  Charley!  that  Lincoln  sycophant.  Do  you 
think  Mary  Lawrence  would  thus  disgrace  her  brother?  Ah,  I 
understand  it  all ;  yes — yes,"  and  young  Lawrence  shook  his  head 
knowingly;  ''it's  all  plain  to  me  now.  But  we  won't  stop  to  dis- 
cuss this  subject,  my  boy.  Rest  assured,  Mary  wishes  to  see  you — 
and  I  am  sure  she  will  never  marry  Fred  Morton.  Come,  we  have 
no  time  to  lose.     Time  is  fleeing,  and  the  girls  await  us." 

Charley  could  not  divest  himself  of  the  sad  apprehension  that, 
deepening  into  conviction,  had  so  long  hung  like  a  deatli-pall  over 
liis  soul.  And  yet,  with  that  readiness  to  seize  upon  the  faintest 
promise  of  good,  so  inherent  in  the  young  heart,  he  suffered  him- 
self to  hope  that  liis  friend's  words  were  true,  au(^  tliat  Mary 
might  yet  be  his  own. 

Hastening  to  improve  his  friend's  suggestions,  he  was  soon 
transformed  in  appearance,  and  ready  to  set  out  to  meet  Mary  at 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Johnson,  whose  daughters  liad  been  her 
schoolmates  and  intimate  associates.  With  trembling  footsteps, 
and  with  conflicting  emotions  and  thoughts  filling  his  bosom  and 
racking  his  brain,  he  ascended  the  steps  of  the  front  balcony,  and 
stood  before  the  door. 

What  years  of  dread  and  misgiving  he  lived  in  the  few  moments 
that  intervened  between  the  ringing  of  the  door-bell  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  servant  to  usher  them  into  the  parlor!  Char- 
ley deposited  his  cap  on  the  hat-rack  in  the  hall,  and  followed 
his  friend  to  the  room.  There,  on  the  divan  before  him,  sat  Mary, 
more  beautiful  than  Peri  of  ancient  Parsee  faith.  She  was  robed 
in  a  simple  dress  of  white  muslin,  with  a  chaplet  of  roses  and 
myrtle  encircling  her  brow.  As  Charley  entered  tlie  room,  she 
sprang  forward  with  all  the  love-look  of  old,  heightened  and  in- 
tensified by  the  joy  of  meeting. 

The  lover's  doubts  and  fears  were  gone.  It  was  the  Mary  of 
yore,  the  idol  of  his  heart,  that  stood,  in  her  purity  and  loveli- 
ness, before  him.  He  could  not  be  deceived.  She  was  true  to 
him — faithful  and  constant  as  when  they  two  had  sat  together 
beneath  the  old  elm-tree,  and  plighted  their  vows.  The  shadows 
suddenly  lifted  from  his  heart — his  doubt  and  dread  gone — his 
fearful  apprehensions  forever  dead. 


196  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

His  whole  frame  trembled  with  the  intensity  of  his  feelings. 
Happiness,  such  as  the  beings  of  a  higher  and  brighter  abode  ex- 
perience, thrilled  his  soul,  and  awakened  therein  the  most  rap 
turous  delight. 

How  deeply  he  upbraided  himself,  as  he  sat  beside  her,  and  gazeS 
into  that  beautiful  face,  and  felt  his  whole  being  stirred  by  the  soft, 
sweet  tones  of  that  gentle  voice,  that  he  had  ever,  even  for  a  mo- 
ment, indulged  a  suspicion  of  her  truth  !  He  wondered  at  himself 
to  think  that  he  should  have  credited  idle  rumors,  when  he  had 
received  from  her  whom  he  had  known  from  childhood  vows  of 
eternal  faith. 

An  hour  later,  and  the  lovers  sat  on  the  balcony,  in  the  soft 
moonlight.  Never  were  there  two  happier  hearts.  Not  a  shade 
intervened  to  cloud  their  joy.  Mary  had  fully  explained  why  it 
was  she  had  received  the  attentions  of  Fred  Mt)rton,  the  Federal 
captain.  Tlieir  mothers  had  been  intimate  friends  from  childhood. 
The  young  man  was  the  nephew  of  her  mother's  physician,  to 
whose  solicitous  care  and  tender  watching  she  believed  she  ow^ed 
the  possession  of  that  inestimable  boon,  a  mother's  love.  And,  in 
addition  to  this,  Mr.  Morton,  the  father,  had  kindly  aided  her 
father  at  a  time  when,  but  for  this  opportune  assistance,  he  would 
have  failed  in  business  and  been  hopelessly  ruined. 
•  "  I  never  loved  Fred  Mroton,  Charley,  you  know  this ;  but  I 
have  known  him  ever  since  I  knew  any  one,  and  the  considerations 
I  have  mentioned  I  deemed  sufficiently  binding  upon  me  to  compel 
me  to  courtesy  in  my  demeanor  towards  the  young  gentleman.  I 
know  what  the  world  said.  I  know  my  friends  censured  me.  Your 
sister,  Charley,  whom  I  have  ever  loved  as  my  sister,  turns  coldly 
from  me.  Often  has  my  heart  bled,  often  have  I  wept  at  being 
thus  situated.  But  I  did  what  I  was  convinced  was  my  duty. 
But  had  I  known — had  I  thought  it  possible  that  you,  Charley, 
would  have  distrusted  me  for  a  moment,  I  would  have  hazarded 
all  old  family  friendships,  and  rejected  the  attentions  of  Captain 
Morton.  But  I  did  not  dream  that  you,  Charley,  could  ever  have 
cherished  a  doubt  of  me, — you  who  have  known  me  so  long  and 
so  well,  to  whom  I  have  ever  shown  kindness  and  truth." 

The  large  tears  that  had  been  gathering  in  the  liquid  depths  of 
those  soft,  blue  eyes,  rolled  down  the  burning  cheek  and  choked 
the  young  girl's  utterance. 

"  Forgive  me,  Mary  ;  forgive  me  that  I  have  thus  sinned  against 
you,"  and  Charley  knelt  before  her,  and  clasped  the  soft,  dimpled 
hand  in  his,  while  his  broken  words  full  well  attested  the  strength 


OF   MORGAN    AND    III3    MEN.  197 

of  his  emotions.  "I  have  wronged  you,  ray  angel — my  life  :  have 
doubted  you,  when  I  should  have  hurled  from  me  the  vile  slanders 
on  your  pure  fidelity  :  have  blamed  y(Ju,  when  I  should  have 
loved.  Forgive  me,  Mary — oh,  forgive  me  my  folly,  and  remem- 
ber not  against  me  this  horrid  weakness,  this  irreparable  guilt." 

The  fast-flowing  tears  fell  on  his  hand.  lie  had  but  to  read  the 
sweet  words  {»f  full  forgiveness  in  that  tear-dewed  face,  as  the 
moonlight  revealed  it  in  all  its  living  beaut}'. 

He  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  her  flushing 
cheek. 

They  were  reconciled,  f(jrever  reconciled — full  atonement  had 
been  made,  and  thenceforth  there  should  never  arise  one  thought 
to  mar  their  perfect  love.  So  felt  those  two  young  hearts,  as  they 
sat  there  wrapt  in  the  bliss  of  confidence  restored,  of  forgiveness 
granted.  Ah,  alas!  how  poorly  did  they  understand  their  own 
hearts — how  little  appreciate  the  influences  of  time  and  circum- 
stances !  They  forgot,  while  plucking  the  fair  and  blooming  flowers 
of  Eden,  that  "the  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  it  all." 

For  several  moments  both  were  silent.  Each  bosom  was  too 
filled  with  bliss  to  find  language. 

'"  But  you  did  not  tell  me,  Mary,  how  you  chanced  to  be  here  in 
this  little  country  town,"  said  Charley,  breaking  the  stillness. 

•'  Why,  in  this  wise,  Charley,"  she  replied,  something  of  her 
wonted  vivacity' speaking  out  in  look  and  gesture.  ''Convinced 
by  father's  arguments  that  it  would  be  wholly  impossible  for 
Colonel  Morgan  to  reach  Louisville,  I  importuned  mother  to  per- 
mit me  to  come  to  Frankfort,  under  the  protection  of  my  cousin. 
She  consented,  \yhen  we  reached  Frankfort,  we  were  persuaded, 
from  the  information  we  received  there  from  Southern  men,  that 
you  would  certainly  pass  through  this  place,  and  cousin  Frank  took 
a  carriage  and  brought  me  here." 

''And  where  is  he  to-night,  Mary?" 

"Oh,  you  know  he  has  a  sweetheart  out  in  the  country  about 
three  miles  from  town.  Notwitiistanding  we  were  hourly  expect- 
ing you,  he  could  not  resist  the  magnet,  and  he  is  now  with  Miss 
Appleton,     I  look  for  him  back  every  moment." 

"I  thank  God  that  we  have  met  once  more,  Mary.  Oh,  you 
cann(it  tell  what  unutterable  anguish  I  have  endured  under  the 
belief  that  another  had  won  from  me  that  love  which  I  hold  as 
above  life  itself.  I  have  told  you  of  Mary  Brent's  letter  to  her 
brother.  This  was  the  first  intimation  I  received  of  the  attentions 
of  Captain  Morton,  and  the  consequent  rumor  that  you  were  to 


198  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCi: 

marry  him.  It  came  with  such  assurance  of  its  trntli,  thnt  T  could 
not — pardon  me,  Mary,  I  did  you  a  great  wrong,  I  know — could 
not  doubt  it.  Love  is  jealous,  you  know,  Mary,  and  the  thouirht 
of  another,  a  hated  rival,  coming  in  between  me  and  the  being  of 
all  others  to  me  most  dear,  drove  me  to  distraction.  I  sank  as 
one  suddenly  overtaken  by  a  fearful  disease.  Life  lost  all  charms  to 
me.  I  wandered  as  one  demented,  pursued  by  an  evil  spirit.  The 
prospect  of  return  to  Kentucky  gave  me  no  joy,  no  hope.  It  was 
like  saying  to  the  criminal, — Come,  walk  and  take  the  fresh  air, 
we  will  go  by  the  gallows  whereon  you  must  be  executed  on  tiie 
rnorrow.  I  came,  because  it  was  unavoidable.  When  I  reached 
Lebanon,  Ben  Spalding,  all  unconscious  that  he  was  thrusting 
]!oisoned  barbs  into  my  very  soul,  repeated  to  me  the  rumor,  as- 
serting on  his  own  knowledge  its  trutlifulness.  I  rose,  dressed 
myself,  and  fled  the  house,  unable  to  rest  a  moment  longer  beneath 
a  roof  where  I  had  endured  such  agony  of  mind.  And  when,  three 
hours  ago,  I  saw  you  standing  on  this  balcony,  and  heard  you  cill 
my  name,  I  looked  coldly,  distractedly  upon  you,  and  said  to  my- 
self, *'  What  is  she  to  me?  Even  while  I  behold  her,  another  may 
call  her  his  own,"  and  I  resolved  to  die.  I  felt  that  I  could  not 
bear  the  insupportable  burden  of  an  existence  that  had  been  for- 
ever robbed  of  its  light  and  joy.  But,  thank  God,  I  now  know  that 
you  are  mine;  that  no  image  of  another  has  ever,  even  for  a  mo- 
ment, enshrined  itself  in  the  temple  of  your  affections.  And  now, 
Mary,  I  again  beseech  you  to  forgive  and  forget  this  deep,  un- 
founded wrong  done  you  by  my  black,  my  infamous  suspicions, 
God  forgive  me,  Mary — I  feel  that  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
in  thus  sinning  against  you!" 

"  Forgive  you,  Charley  ?  My  heart  tells  me  tliat  I  should  rather 
plead  with  you  for  forgiveness.  I  now  see,  that,  while  doing  wMiat 
I  believed  to  be  a  right,  I  did,  all  unnecessarily  it  is  true,  but, 
nevertheless,  did  surely  lay  the  foundation  of  all  your  unliappi- 
ness;  I  have  learned  a  lesson,  sad  and  deep,  which  no  coming 
time  shall  ever  wear  out  from  my  heart." 

She  paused,  and  looked  up  into  Charley's  face  with  an  expression 
so  pleading,  so  full  of  tenderness  and  truth,  that — soldier  as  he  was, 
all  unused  to  tears — he  could  not  restrain  the  big,  burning  drops 
that  gushed  to  his  eyes  and  rolled  down  his  manly  cheeks.  He 
])res.»ed  her  more  closely  to  him.  He  was  about  to  speak,  when  a 
footfall  on  the  steps  attracted  their  attention.  It  was  Frank  Car- 
ter, Mary's  cousin,  just  returned  from  the  country. 

"And  Morgan  has  come,  cousin  I"  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he 
5* 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  199 

canglit  a  glimpse  of  M:iry.     "  Wliere  is  John  ?     I  am  almost  crazy 
to  see  him.     I  understood  he  was  here." 

Charley  stepped    forward.     Young  Carter  recognized  him  in 
stantly. 

'' Wh}',  Charley,  my  friend,  is  this  you?  How  do  you  do?  I 
am  so  glad  to  see  you !"  and  he  stood  shaking  the  young  soldier  hy 
both  hands,  looking  him  intently  in  the  eye,  his  face  beaming  with 
the  happiness  the  meeting  with  his  old  friend  gave  him.  '*  And 
where  is  John,  Charley?     Isn't  he  with  y(jn  ?" 

'"  He  acc()mj)anied  Miss  May  to  the  ice-cream  saloon  a  short  time 
since,  but  will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  I  suppose." 

The  three  passed  into  the  parlor.  In  a  few  minutes.  Miss  Jenny 
May  and  young  Lawrence  returned. 

Carter  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  clasped  his  cousin  in  his  arms. 
They  had  been  playmates  in  childhood,  and  the  love  of  brothers 
characterized  their  whole  life. 

"O.  John,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  once  more  safely  back  in  old 
Kentucky !     In  the  name  of  all  the  true  hearts  in  our  once  proud, 
but  now  degraded  State,  I  welcome  you.     May  you  be  one  of  the  . 
noble  braves  to  drive  the  hordes  of  abolition  invaders  from  her 
bo>v>m." 

''Join  us,  Frank;  we  need  strong,  young  arms  and  nerved 
souls,  to  aid  us  in  our  work." 

*•'  Have  you  a  gun  for  me.  John  ?" 

'•Yes;  can  give  you  a  complete  outfit.  Will  you  accept  it,  and 
cast  your  lot  with  us  V 

"With  right  good-will,  John.  I  set  out  from  home  with  that 
expectation,  I  have  long  desired  a  fitting  opportunity  to  join  you, 
and  I  am  now  ready.     1  go  with  you  to-night." 

"  And  what  will  become  of  me,  Frank?  You  know  mother  in- 
trusted me  to  you." 

"  Oh,  you  will  be  taken  care  of.  I  shall  assuredly  provide  for 
you." 

"Patriotism  first,  gallantry  afterwards — first  our  country,  then 
our  sweethearts.  This  should  be  the  motto  now,  Mary;  uou't 
you  think  so,  gentlemen?"  asked  Miss  May. 

'•Our  countrj'  and  our  sweethearts,  first  and  forever,  Miss  May, 
is  the  watchword  of  Kentucky  soldiers.  We  fight  for  both,  for 
both  we  die,  but  never  yield  either  to  the  foe." 

The  evening  was  spent  most  delightfully  in  song,  music,and  cheer- 
ful conversation.      Southern  songs  were  sung  without  restraint. 
,No  blue-coated  spy  paced  the  streets  to  search  out  '•  treason.^'* 


200  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

Cliarley  and  Mary  again  found  tlie  balcony.  Love  seeks  no 
jiociety  save  its  own.  Time  sped  by  with  nimble  feet.  Charley 
lingered.  To-morrow  he  might  be  torn  away  for  the  rapid  march 
or  bloody  skirmish.  Sweet  were  the  words  of  love  interchanged 
by  these  two  young,  trusting  hearts.  How  brightly,  wreathed 
with  the  halo  of  hopeful  promise  and  joy,  did  the  future  outspread 
before  them!  Love  is  a  kaleidoscope  which,  however  many  new 
and  rare  combinations  are  presented,  none  are  devoid  of  beautiful 
colors  or  symmetrical  forms. 

''  Time  for  us  to  leave,  isn't  it,  Charley  ?"  said  young  Lawrence, 
appearing  on  the  balcony,  accompanied  by  his  cousin,  Mr.  Carter. 
"  Can  you  guess  the  hour,  my  friend  ?" 

*'  Ten  o'clock,  I  suppose,''  replied  Charley,  taking  out  his  watch 
f(>r  the  first  time  during  the  evening. 

"  Ten,  o'clock,  Charley !"  cried  Lawrence,  laughing  heartil}', 
'•Time  must  have  passed  pleasantly  with  you,  truly.  Wouldn't 
you  think  so.  Miss  Jenny  and  Frank?  Charley  says  ten,  my  watch 
Fays  five  minutes  to  twelve.  Charley  has  taken  no  note  of  time, 
the  watch  has  measured  every  minute,  so  I  suppose  we  shall  have 
to  take  the  testimony  of  the  latter,  and  bid  you  ladies  good-night.'' 

"  We  soldiers  don't  often  have  the  pleasure  of  ladies'  society,'' 
responded  Charley  to  his  friend's  badinage.  ''This  must  plead 
our  apology  for  the  present  trespass.  When  we  call  again,  we  hope 
to  be  more  thoughtful  of  your  comfort  and  the  prescribed  forms 
of  etiquette.  Good-night,  ladies,"  and,  bowing  politely,  he  de- 
scended the  steps. 

His  two  friends,  after  promising  to  return  on  the  morrow,  "  (/" 
circumstances  would  permit^''''  bade  the  young  ladies  good-night, 
a!;d  followed  his  example. 

Descending  the  steps,  and  turning  the  corner  of  the  street,  they 
were  soon  lost  to  sight. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MKX.  5^01 


CHAPTER   XXXYI. 

SUCCESS    OF    AN    ATTEMI'T    TO    VISIT    LEXINGTON. 

It  hail  been  concerted  by  Curd,  Irving,  Castlernan,  and  young 
Moriran,  to  visit  Lexington  in  disguise,  if  they  could  obtain  leave 
of  absence  until  the  following  evening.  This  done,  tiie  four 
dressed  themselves  up  in  a  full  suit  6t'  Lincoln  blue,  and  about  nine 
o'clock  they  set  out  on  their  perilous  undertaking.  They  knew 
every  mile  of  the  way,  having  often  travelled  it,  and  they  were 
also  fully  acquainted  with  the  sentiments  of  every  individual  on 
the  road-side,  so  that  they  had  nothing  to  apprehend  on  the  score 
of  falling  into  Union  hands.  Their  only  danger  on  the  way  was 
the  Federal  pickets,  which  mast,  ^^ar  necessite,  be  either  evaded  of 
deceived.  But  they  also  ran  the  further  risk  of  being  recognized 
by  every  individual  whom  they  might  meet  in  the  city,  and  thereby 
be  betrayed  into  Federal  hands. 

But  these  young  men  were  fond  of  adventure,  and  they  cared 
not  a  whit  how  narrow  the  escape  was,  so  they  escaped.  Indeed, 
the  very  danger  they  must  be  subject  to  throughout,  only  served 
to  add  zest  to  the  scheme. 

The  four,  mounted  on  fleet  horses  and  completely  disguised,  set 
out  amid  the  shouts  and  cheers  of  their  comrades,  on  their  rather 
dubious  expedition.  Many  were  the  wagers  laid  by  the  boys  that 
they  would  be  nabbed  by  the  Yankees,  and  sent  to  the  military 
prison  at  Louisville  ;  but  the  young  adventurers,  confident  of  suc- 
cess, in  every  instance  doubled  the  sum  that  they  would  return  the 
following  night,  with  all  the  items  of  news  known  in  the  besieged 
city  of  Lexington. 

"  Present  our  regards  to  our  friends  in  the  city,"  shouted  a 
dozen  voices,  as,  laying  whip  to  their  horses,  the  merry  quartette 
dashed  off  on  their  excursion.  They  rode  at  a  rapid  pace  for  five 
or  six  miles,  heeding  neither  toll-gate  nor  the  groups  of  two  and 
three  Federal  soldiers  which  they  passed  on  their  way. 

When  within  five  miles  of  Lexington,  they  halted  to  discuss  and 
decide  npon  the  best  plan  to  be  pursued.  Morgan  and  Curd  were 
in  favor  of  attempting  to  pass  the  pickets  on  horseback.     Irving 


202  KAIDS    AVD    IJfMAXC!; 

and  CastleiTian  thought  it  be^t  to  uisinount,  leave  their  horses  at 
the  house  of  a  friend,  and,  avoiding  the  pickets,  enter  the  ciry  by 
a  by-path. 

"  We  can  deceive  them,  Irving,  rest  assured  we  can,"  argued 
Morgan.  "•  They'll  never  suspect  us.  I'll  give  the  Yankee  twang 
so  completely,  they'll  swear  I  am  a  regular  Down-Easter,  and  no 
mistake." 

"  But,  Cal.,  is  it  not  better  to  avoid  them  altogether?  Then  we 
shall  certainly  be  safe." 

"  But  how  can  this  be  done,  and  where  shall  we  leave  our 
horses,  Irving  ?  I  would  as  soon  the  wretches  would  get  me  as 
my  horse." 

"  Ah,  I  can  manage  that,  Cal.  There  is  an  old  friend  of  mine, 
jnst  across  the  way  here,  that  will  take  good  care  of  theru  until  we 
come  back.  Once  in  his  hands,  and  I'll  wager  my  head  the  Feds 
will  never  get  them." 

"  But  how  shall  we  avoid  the  pickets  ?     They  are  as  thick  about 
the  city  as  leaves  in  Vallambrosa,  no  doubt." 
.    "  But  certainly  we  can  shun  them  better  as  pedestrians  than  we 
could  on  horseback." 

''  But  in  the  latter  case,  if  we  could  neither  deceive  nor  shun 
them,  we  could  eifect  an  escape;  while  if  on  foot,  they  might  shoot 
us  and  we  could  make  no  effort  to  get  away." 

"  I  will  take  the  chances  on  foot,  Cal.  I  am  convinced  it  is  the 
safer  plan." 

"  And  I  will  trust  to  my  ingenuity,  blarney,  and  this  good  steed 
of  mine  to  secure  me  a  safe  passage  through,  or  a  safe  exit  from 
the  rascals." 

After  a  lengthy  discussion  on  the  subject  it  was  finally  agreed, 
as  a  test  of  the  judgment  of  the  respective  parties,  that  Morgan 
and  Curd  should  attempt  the  trip  on  horseback,  while  Irving  and 
Castleman  would  essay  it  on  foot.  It  was  arranged  tliat  they 
should  meet  the  next  day,  at  two  o'clock,  to  dine  at  Mrs.  Morgan's, 
mother  of  the  colonel,  provided  they  succeeded  in  the  attempt. 

Irving  and  Castleman  turned  through  a  gate  to  the  right,  to  seek 
the  house  of  the  friend  with  whom  the  horses  were  to  be  left. 
Morgan  and  Curd,  bidding  them  good-night,  pursued  their  way 
along  the  pike.  They  rode  on  abi-ut  a  mile,  planning  their  passage 
through  the  lines,  when  suddenly  they  came  upon  the  pickets, 
v^even  or  eight  strong.     Morgan  rode  forward. 

"Halt!"  called  out  a  Hoosier,  thrusting  his  bayonet  across  the 
road.     •'  Halt !  I  tell  you,  or  Fll  blow  out  your  brains  in  a  minute !" 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS   IklEN.  203 

*'Two  of  the  51st  Ohio,"  answered  Morgan,  with  the  veritable 
Yankee  drawl,  "  trying  to  escape  from  Morgan's  men.  Got  caught 
out  liere,  and  came  within  an  ace  of  being  made  prisoners.  Had 
a  hard  time  to  get  ofi*.  I  tell  you,  these  rebels  are  regular  dare- 
devils.    Bully  fellows,  they." 

*'  Where's  your  pass?     Let  me  see  that." 

''Pass,  my  friend?  How  do  you  suppose  we  could  get  a  pass, 
when  there  was  nobody  to  give  us  one?  Our  pass  to-night  were 
these  two  good  steeds." 

Just  at  this  juncture,  four  or  live  others,  that  had  been  sitting 
by  the  road-side,  about  half  asleep,  came  up  and  joined  the  IIoo- 
sier,  who  explained  the  matter  to  them,  and  asked  their  advice. 

''  Our  orders  are  to  let  no  one  pass  in  or  out,"  spoke  a  red-hair- 
ed man,  whom  Morgan  immediately  recognized  as  Bill  Green,  of 
the  Lexington  Home  Guard.  "  And  we  can't  disobey  orders,  if 
Morgan's  men  do  catch  you,"  added  another  voice,  perfectly  fami- 
liar to  his  ear.  He  looked  over  the  group.  There  were  four  there 
that  knew  him  well — the  least  circumstance  might  betray  him. 

What  should  he  do?  To  attempt  to  deceive  them  was  risking 
every  thing.  They  might  recognize  him  at  any  moment.  And 
how  gladly  would  they  seize  upon  him.  What  a  prize !  "  Gal. 
Morgan,  the  brother  of  John  Morgan!"  All  the  papers  in  the 
hind  would  be  filled  with  the  glad  intelligence. 

They  debated  but  a  moment.  Giving  Curd  the  signal,  he  wheel- 
ed his  horse,  and  started  off  at  full  speed. 

"Rebels!  rebels!"  and  a  half  dozen  bullets  shredded  the  air 
around  their  head.  One  passed  through  young  Curd's  Lincoln 
cap.  One  glanced  by  Morgan's  right  foot,  but  no  damage  was 
received  by  either,  as  they  dashed  on  as  rapidly  as  their  horses 
could  bear  them,  pursued  by  four  of  the  picket-guard,  who,  mount- 
ing their  steeds,  set  out  to  catch  the  rebels. 

The  horses  of  the  pursuers  were  fresh,  and  they  were  fast  gain- 
ing on  the  two  fugitives. 

"Fire,  Curd,"  said  Morgan.  '•  Maybe  we  can  kill  one  of  them 
This  will  put  an  end  to  the  chase." 

Curd  obeyed  the  bidding,  and  fired.  The  shot  was  harmless. 
It  was  immediately  replied  to. 

Morgan  turned  himself  in  his  saddle,  and  aimed  at  the  man 
nearest  him. 

"Oh,  God!  I  am  shot — I'm  killed!"  cried  out  the  Yankee. 
His  companions  halted. 

Morgan  and  Curd  took  advantage  of  the  confusion,  and  spurring 


204  RAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

their  horses  forward  to  their  fullest  soppfl,  dashed  over  the  hill  and 
out  of  sighr.  Nor  did  they  stop  uutii  they  were  assured  they  were 
beyond  the  guns  of  their  enemies. 

There  was  high  merriment  in  camp  as  they  told  over  the  story 
f»f  their  escape,  and  many  a  juke  was  perpetrated  at  their  expense. 

It  was  one  o'clock  the  following  day.  A  young  female,  closely 
veiled,  rang  the  door-bell  of  Mrs.  Morgan's  residence.  A  servant 
quickly  appeared. 

*'  Hand  your  mistress  this  card." 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Morgan  entered  the  parlor. 

"  Is  your  son  at  home,  Mrs.  Morgan  ?"  asked  the  girl  in  a  whis- 
per, as  the  two  seated  themselves  on  the  t^ofa. 

"  Which  one,  Belle?  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the  old  lady 
in  a  voice  of  surprise. 

*'  Cal,,  Mrs.  Morgan." 

"No,  my  dear.  You  surprise  me  by  your  question.  What  do 
you  mean  ?  You  did  not  expect  to  tind  him  here,  did  you  ?"  ask- 
ed the  old  lady,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

''  Get  your  bonnet,  Mrs.  Morgan,  and  go  with  me.  My  brother 
and  young  Irving  are  at  my  mother's,  and  want  to  see  you,  Ba 
quiet ;  I'll  tell  you  when  we  reach  the  carriage.  Let  me  call 
the  servant,"  added  the  young  girl,  as  she  saw  the  nervous  state 
of  Mrs.  M.,  who,  unable  to  control  herself,  stood  leaning  on  the 
table.  The  young  girl  placed  the  bonnet  and  shawl  on  the  trem- 
bling mother,  and  led  her  to  the  carriage,  ordering  the  driver  to 
take  the  most  private  way  home.  The  young  girl  turned  to  Mrs. 
Morgan,  and  said,  "  My  brother  and  Mr.  Irving  reached  home  this 
morning  ab^ut  three  o'clock.  They  avoided  the  pickets,  and  got 
in  without  difSculty.     Your  son  and — " 

"  Which  son,  Belle?"  gasped  the  agitated  mother,  seizing  her 
arm.     ''  God  grant  John  has  not  fallen  into  their  bloody  hands !" 

"  No,  no,  Mrs.  Morgan  ;  it  was  not  Colonel  Morgan,  but  your 
younger  son,  CaL  It  was  agreed  that  he  and  Jack  Curd  should 
attempt  to  pass  the  Federal  pickets  in  the  dress  of  Lincoln  sol- 
diers. They  were  on  horseback.  My  brother  and  Mr.  Irving  set 
out  on  foot,  and  succeeded  in  getting  safely  through,  and  are  now 
at  my  mother's.  They  were  all  to  dine  with  you  to-day  ;  this  was 
the  agreement  when  they  parted.  But  brother  thinks  our  house 
is  watched,  and  he  and  Mr.  Irving  are  afraid  to  leave.  They  sent 
me  to  see  if  your  son  and  young  Curd  were  with  you,  and  if  they 
were  not,  I  was  instructed  to  bring  you  home  with  me," 

•'  Oh,  my  child,  my  poor  son!     I  am  afraid  the  Yankees  have 


OF   MORGAN   AND  HIS   ME2s'.  205 

got  him.  IK,\v  shamefully  they  will  use  him.  merely  because  he 
is  a  Morgan  !  My  cup  of  grief  is  full— it  overtiow.s.  Surelv,  I  am 
stricken— afflicted.  Hut  I  must  not  falter.  These  are  no  times  for 
fear  and  irresolution.  My  children  fight  for  a  just  cause;  I  must 
trust  them  in  the  hands  of  God.  Have  you  seen  the  morning 
paper,  my  child  ?  If  they  are  captured,  that,  no  doubt,  contains 
the  intelligence." 

"  I  have  not,  Mrs.  Morgan.  We  do  not  take  the  Observer  ;  but 
there  is  a  boy  with  some  papers.     I  will  call  him,  and  get  one." 

The  carriage  was  stopped;  the  boy  called;  the  pai)er  pur- 
chased. 

Eagerly  the  young  girl  looked  over  its  columns,  while  Mrs. 
M^organ  sat  in  breathless  suspense  at  her  side. 

'•They  were  not  caught,  Mrs.  Morgan.  Here,  listen  bow  nar- 
rowly they  escaped.  I  know  this  must  be  the  account  of  it,"  and 
the  young  girl  read  the  description  of  the  scene  as  it  had  occurred 
the  night  before.  "  They  were  dressed  in  Federal  uniform,  Mrs. 
Morgan.  I  know  they  were  so;  there  can  be  no  mistake  about 
it.  My  brother  and  Mr.  Irving  are  thus  attired,  and  they  told  us 
your  son  and  young  Curd  used  the  same  means  to  avoid  detection." 
"Thank  God  I  my  child  is  safe.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see 
him,  but  I  would  not  have  him  risk  his  life  to  come  to  me.  I  have 
been  trying  all  the  morning  to  get  a  pass  out  of  the  city,  but  they 
would  not  grant  me  one.  I  feel  I  would  risk  every  thing  to  see 
ray  children  ;  but,  with  their  brutal  cruelty,  they  deny  me  this 
poor  request,  just  because  they  know  it  almost  breaks  my  heart." 
The  ladies  alighted  at  Mrs.  Castleman's  door.  Mrs.  Morgan 
was  shown  up  stairs  into  a  private  room,  where  she  was  welcomed 
by  the  two  soldiers,  who  sat  enjoying  themselves  in  the  midst  of 
friends  of  both  sexes,  and  of  all  ages. 

The  heroes  soon  related  to  Mrs.  Morgan's  anxious  mind  the 
whole  story,  and  assured  her  that  the  statement  in  tlie  morning 
paper  must  be  correct,  as  the  description  of  the  two  men  accorded 
precisely  with  the  appearance  of  her  son  and  his  friend. 

Most  happily  the  evening  passed  to  these  two  men,  prisoners  as 
they  wore  in  the  home  of  their  birth;  their  rights  as  freemen 
trampled  into  the  earth  by  a  horde  of  Abolitionists,  who  had  no 
more  right  on  Kentucky  soil  than  Caffres  or  Bushmen. 

Friend  after  friend  called  in,  until  the  large  room  was  filled  with 
the  yon ng,  the  old,  tlie  gay,  the  sober,  all  anxious  to  see  old  ac- 
quaintances who  now  enjoyed  the  high  reputation  of  being  Mor- 
gan's men. 


206  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE       - 

Having  seen  their  sweethearts  and  friends,  and  obtained  all  the 
infoirmation  they  could,  the  two  set  out  to  retrace  their  steps,  and 
heroes  they  were  dubbed,  as  at  one  o'clock  that  night  they  entered 
their  camp  at  Georgetown,  without  a  scratch  or  any  such  memenio 
of  an  affray  with  the  Yankees. 

Ah,  what  lasting  memories  gather  around  that  midnight  ex- 
cursion ! 


MCiUGAN    A^'D    HIS   MEN. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

STAY    OF    THE    CONFKDERATKS   IN    GEORGETOWN. 

Colonel  Morgan  took  possession  of  Georgetown  on  Tuesday- 
evening,  July  16th.  The  same  evening,  he  issued  the  following 
proclamation  to  the  people  of  Kentucky  : 

'•Kentuekians!  I  come  to  liberate  you  from  the  despotism  of 
tyrannical  fanaticism,  and  to  rescue  my  native  State  from  the  hands 
of  your  oppressors.  Everywhere  the  cowardly  foes  have  fled  from 
my  avenging  arms.  My  brave  army  is  stigmatized  as  a  band  of 
guerillas  and  marauders.  Believe  it  not.  I  point  with  pride  to 
their  deeds  as  a  refutation  of  this  foul  assertion. 

''  We  come  not  to  molest  peaceable  individuals,  nor  to  destroy 
private  property,  but  guarantee  absolute  protection  to  all  who  are 
not  in  arms  against  us.  We  ask  only  to  meet  the  hireling  legions 
of  Lincoln.  The  eyes  of  your  brotliers  of  the  South  are  upon  you. 
Your  gallant  fellow-citizens  are  flocking  to  our  standard.  Our 
armies  are  rapidly  advancing  to  your  protection.  Tiien  greet  them 
with  the  willing  hands  of  fifty  thousand  of  Kentucky's  bravest 
t^ons.     Their  advance  is  already  with  you.     Then, 

'  Strike  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires  ! 
Strike  for  your  altars  and  your  fires ! 
God,  and  your  native  land  !'  " 

The  citizens  believed  his  words,  and  reinforcements  assembled 
around  his  standard  from  Franklin,  Scott,  Trimble,  Owen,  and 
Bourbon  counties.  Brave  hearts  and  strong  arms  rallied  to  swell 
the  number  of  Kentucky's  deliverers. 

On  entering  the  town.  Colonel  Morgan  immediately  took  pos- 
session of  the  press  and  telegraph  office. 

The  operator,  a  deep-dyed*  Lincolnite,  declared,  on  a  demand 
being  made  for  his  apparatus,  that  it  had  all  been  packed  up  and 
sent  to  Cincinnati  as  soon  as  it  was  known  the  Confederates  were 
inarching  on  the  place.  Colonel  Morgan  scanned  the  poor  af- 
frighted felon  from  head  to  foot.  He  was  a  pretty  good  judge  of 
men  and  circumstances,  and  feeling  assured  that  the  cixature  was 
trying  to  deceive  him,  he  in  a  very  calm,  decided  tone,  told  him 


208  RAIDS   AND   KOMANCE 

he  could  make  his  choice  of  two  things  :  either  produce  the  battery, 
etc.,  or  take  a  trip  with  him  South,  to  share  the  privileges  of  a 
Dixie  prison. 

The  man  looked  blank  with  astonishment.  This  fearful  alter- 
native was  wholly  unexpected.  His  heart  drew  back  in  dread  be- 
fore the  horrid  picture  his  excited  fancy  drew  of  the  miseries  of  a 
Castle  Thunder.  He  hesitated — looked  confused — paled  and  red- 
dened by  turns.  How  could  he  convict  himself  of  falsehood  ?  He 
cast  a  furtive  glance  on  the  colonel,  as  he  stood  there  calmly 
awaiting  his  decision.  He  saw  the  demand  was  imperative. 
Moving  slowly  towards  the  bed,  he  stooped  down,  and,  with  the 
look  of  a  criminal,  drew  from  its  hiding-place  all  the  missing  ap- 
paratus. Colonel  Morgan  received  it  gracefully,  at  the  same  time 
ordering  two  of  his  men  to  take  in  charge  the  poor,  trembhng 
operator  until  further  directions. 

Situated  as  Morgan  was,  in  such  close  proximity  to  the  enemy 
now  assembled  in  force  at  Frankfort,  seventeen  miles  in  his  rear, 
and  at  Lexington,  only  twelve  to  his  right,  and  also  rapidly 
congregating  at  Paris  in  front  of  him,  it  became  necessary  to  act 
with  the  greatest  dispatch  and  caution. 

A  company  of  men,  under  Captain  McMillan,  was  immediately 
sent  out  to  effectually  destroy  the  railroad  between  Midway  and 
Lexington,  and  Midway  and  Frankfort,  tliereby  preventing  rein- 
forcements from  being  sent  to  Lexington. 

The  boys  performed  this  task  with  alacrity  and  success.  They 
tore  up  the  track,  blew  up  the  stone  bridge,  rendering  the  road 
whohy  useless  to  the  enemy,  and  returned  in  triumph  to  George- 
town. 

Scouts  were  also  sent  forward  towards  Paris,  to  ascertain  the 
number  and  position  of  the  troops  at  that  point. 

The  day  following  Morgan's  entrance  into  Georgetown,  as  he 
■was  sitting  in  his  office  with  Colonel  St,  Leger,  Major  Duke,  and 
others,  among  whom  were  many  of  the  tirst  citizens  of  the  place, 
an  old  man,  of  venerable  appearance,  was  conducted  in  by  two  of 
his  men,  who  informed  the  colonel  that  the  visitor  had  intelligence 
of  importance  to  communicate. 

The  colonel  rose,  and  received  the  old  gentleman  with  a  polite 
bow  and  pleasant  smile,  at  the  same  time  requesting  him  to  be 
seated,  which  the  visitor  did  with  an  air  of  simple  modesty.  CoF- 
onel  Morgan  scanned  him  closely  from  head  to  foot.  He  was  a 
plain,  unassuming  farmer,  dressed  in  homespun,  and  wearing  a  low- 
crowned  beaver  hat,  which  he  now  held  in  his  hand.     His  conn- 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS    MKN.  209 

tenance  was  open,  and  expressive  of  ingenuousness  and  truth.  Col- 
onel Morgan  was  satisfied  with  the  scrutiny.  It  was  impossible 
for  such  a  man  to  be  guilty  of  a  desire  to  deceive. 

Excusing  himself  to  his  friends,  and  leading  the  visitor  into  a 
small  ante-room,  Colonel  Morgan  questioned  him  respecting  the 
int^ligence  he  bore. 

"1  come,  coiontl.*' replied  the  old  man,  in  a  mild,  respectful 
tone,  which  at  once  bespoke  iiim  a  gentleman,  '•  to  inform  you  with 
regard  to  a  Federal  force  at  Scamping  Ground,  about  twelve  miles 
from  here,  whicli  I  think,  sir,  you  can  easily  capture,  with  all  their 
accoutrements." 

Convinced  that  the  old  man's  story  was  reliable.  Colonel  Morgan 
asked  :  "  How  many  Yankees  do  you  think  there  are  in  the  force 
of  which  you  speak  ?" 

''  Only  about  seventy -five,  sir.  I  myself  have  counted  them  twice, 
and  both  times  I  made  that  number." 

"  Are  they  well  armed,  sir?" 

"Very  well,  colonel.  First-rate  guns,  and  every  equipment 
necessary." 

"  What  have  they  besides  their  guns?" 

"Tents,  wagons,  and  stores  of  every  kind,  which  have  been  sent 
up  recently  from  Fi-ankfort.  x\nd,  in  addition  to  these,  they  have 
some  boxes  of  guns  which  have  not  yet  been  opened." 

"Can  they  fight  pretty  well,  and  have  t!iey  a  brave  captain?" 

'•  Can't  answer  for  tlie  men,  colonel ;  but  their  captain  is  as 
brave  a  man  as  ever  lived." 

"Are  they  looking  for  my  men,  and  have  they  made  any  prepa- 
ration to  receive  them;  and  if  so,  of  what  nature,  and  where?" 

"  When  I  left  there,  late  yesterday  evening,  they  were  all  in 
confnsion,  every  moment  looking  for  you  to  come  down  upon  them. 
I  judge,  colonel,  they  are  looking  for  you  yet.  They  had  no  de- 
fence then,  and  I  should  think,  from  the  scare  they  were  in,  that 
they  have  found  no  time  for  preparation  of  any  kind  ;  your  scouts 
could  readily  ascertain  this,  colonel.  Any  man  there  would  tell 
them." 

Colonel  Morgan  thanked  the  old  gentleman  kindly,  and  desired 
him  to  dine  with  him  at  the  hotel.  But  the  old  farmer  declined. 
"All  he  desired  was,  to  be  permitted  to  shake  hands  with  the  men, 
and  bid  them  God-speed  in  their  glorious  cause." 

A  guide  was  appointed  to  show  the  old  man  to  the  camp  and 
introdoce  him  to  the  boys. 

"  Call  Captain  Hamilton,"  said  Colonel  Morgan,  to  one  of  his  aids. 


210  RAIDS   AND  EOMANCE 

''Captain,"  said  the  colonel,  as  the  young  officer  stood  before 
him,  "take  with  you  one  hundred  men  and  proceed  to  Stumping 
Ground,  break  up  the  Federal  encampment  there,  and  capture  all 
their  store?,  and  report  to  me  at  this  point." 

The  dashing  captain  set  out  with  his  men  about  noon.  The 
road  was  fine,  and,  after  a  ride  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  they  came 
upon  the  Federal  pickets,  who  fled  at  their  approach,  giving  to  the 
encampment  the  fearful  intelligence  that  Morgan's  whole  force  was 
marching  into  the  village. 

In  vain  their  captain  endeavored  to  rally  them  for  a  fight.  He 
told  them  they  could  drive  back  tlirice  their  number.  But  his  ar- 
guments could  not  convince  the  frightened  men  that  they  possess- 
ed this  wonderful  amount  of  courage.  They  seized  their  guns,  but, 
further  than  this,  they  manifested  no  disposition  to  fight.  They 
stood,  fearful  and  irresolute.  He  assured  them  the  enemy  num- 
bered but  about  fifty  men — that  the  pickets  were  scared,  and  did 
not  remain  to  see  how  many  there  were ;  plead  with  them  to  pro- 
tect their  homes  and  families — to  show  themselves  worthy  sup- 
porters of  the  glorious  old  flag  which  their  forefathers  had  so  no- 
bly defended. 

After  much  persuasion,  he  induced  thefii  to  follow  him  a  few 
hundred  yards  from  their  encampment,  where  he  formed  them  in 
line  of  battle.  By  this  time  the  enemy  could  be  distinctly  heard, 
rapidly  descending  the  hill  into  the  village.  The  clattering  of  their 
horses'  hoofs  was  fearful  to  the  affrighted  ears  of  the  trembling  men. 

A  young  man  of  the  place  rushed  up  and  cried  out  that  Morgan, 
at  the  head  of  at  least  five  hundred  men,  was  dashing  on  to  attack 
thera.  It  was  enough.  The  forces  broke  and  ran,  scattering  in 
every  direction.  Each  one  sought  safety  where  he  thought  it 
could  best  be  secured. 

Some  did  not  stop  until  they  found  themselves  lost  amid  the 
high  hills  that  bound  the  village  on  the  north.  Others  secreted 
themselves  in  barns  and  houses,  while  others,  finding  escape  im- 
possible, surrendered  themselves  and  received  their  parole.  Cap- 
tain Hamilton  ordered  his  men  to  set  fire  to  the  tents,  and  destroy  the 
guns  and  stores.  They  then  returned  to  the  village,  and,  amid  the 
wonder  of  the  gaping  crowd,  took  possession  of  the  medical  and  com- 
missary supplies,  which  soon  shared  the  fate  of  the  tents  and  guns. 

The  victors  remained  awhile  to  rest  and  enjoy  the  hospitality  of 
the  friends  who,  as  soon  as  they  were  relieved  of  the  presence  of 
the  Lincolnites,  hastened  to  surround  them  and  congratulate  them 
on  their  bloodless  victory. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  211 

Recruits,  to  tlie  nnniber  of  seven  or  eight,  joined  them  here,  and 
were  provided  with  guns  taken  from  the  Vanquished  Lincolnites. 

A  detachment  was  sent  under  Captain  Castleman,  brother  to  the 
one  who  had  so  successfully  entered  Lexington,  to  destroy  the  rail- 
road bridges  between  Paris  and  Lexington, 

Success  liaving  crowned  all  of  Colonel  Morgan's  plans,  the  boys 
felt  themselves  safe  in  their  present  happy  position,  and  gave  them- 
selves up  to  enjoyment.  •They  dashed  out  into  the  country,  visited 
tlie  farm-houses,  where  they  were  kindly  received  and  treated  to 
Kentucky's  best  cheer;  called  to  see  the  ladies;  partook  daily  of 
the  nicest  provisions,  which  were  sent  in  the  greatest  profusion 
into  the  camp  ;  laughed,  danced,  and  sung. 

Colonel  Morgan  was  waited  upon  by  many  of  the  best  citizens 
of  the  place,  who  dared  thus  to  speak  out  their  sentiments,  despite 
the  dark  scowls  and  bitter  threats  of  the  Union  neighbors. 

Tliere  was  a  physician  in  town,  uncle  to  Majf)r  Gano,  of  tlie 
Texas  squadron.  This  gentleman  had  been  a  rabid  Unionist  from 
the  beginning  of  the  troubles,  and  was  one  of  the  first  men  in  that 
community  to  advocate  the  formation  and  arming  of  a  Home  Guard 
company.  In  consideration  of  his  active  services  in  obtaining  arms 
and  enlistments,  he  had  been  selected  as  captain  of  the  body,  but 
with  his  men  he  had  ingloriously  fled  to  Lexington,  having  first 
sent  his  family  to  the  country.  His  residence  was  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  town,  and  fronted  by  a  most  beautiful  lawn.  Into  this 
Major  Gant)  marched  his  command  and  encamped. 

The  Texas  boys  soon  learned  they  were  on  the  premises  of  one 
of  their  bitterest  foes,  and,  fired  at  the  thought,  they  vowed  to 
destroy  every  thing  before  them. 

"Why  should  they  protect  the  property  of  a  man  who  was  then 
under  arms  to  kill  them?"  they  argued,  nnd  with  that  spirit  of 
"evil  for  evil"  "which  inhabits  the  human  breast,  they  set  out  to 
begin  their  work  of  destruction. 

The  major,  hearing  of  their  intention,  forbade  any  man's  touch- 
ing any  thing  on  the  premises,  and  placed  a  guard  around  the  house. 
And,  a  few  days  after,  when  the  possessor  returned,  he  found 
every  tldng  in  statu  quo^  except  some  forage,  which  the  men  had 
been  permitted  to  appropriate  for  their  horses. 

The  premises  of  other  Union  men  were  everywhere  guarded 
with  the  same  fidelity.  And  instead  of  the  ravage  and  ruin  which 
always  characterize  the  progress  t)f  the  Abolition  hordes,  they  left 
behind  them  undisturbed  homes  and  thankful,  happy  hearts. 


212  KAEDS   AND   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE    PARTING. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  second  day  of  Morgan's  occupation  of 
Georgetown.  Orders  had  been  given  that  on  the  following  morn- 
ing the  whole  command  must  be  ready  to  advance  at  an  early 
hour.  Busy  preparations  for  a  move  were  everywhere  made 
throughout  the  ranks,  for  the  men  well  knew  what  Colonel  Mor- 
gan meant  by  an  early  hour. 

The  dreamy  twilight  was  gliding  noiselessly  over  the  earth. 
The  sun  declining  behind  the  western  horizon,  had  left  in  his  golden 
way  a  flood  of  light,  which  fell  in  mellow  radiance  over  the  soft 
summer's  landscape.  The  stars,  one  by  one,  stole  out  from  behind 
their  blue  hidings  above,  and  looked  quietly  down  upon  the  green 
earth.  The  moon  sent  out  her  silvery  beams  to  add  to  the  heavenly 
beauty  of  the  scene.  The  meek-eyed  flowers  lifted  lovingly  their 
tiny  heads  to  catch  the  kiss  of  the  cooling  zephyr  as  it  sported  on 
airy  wing  across  the  tufted  lawn  and  waving  meadows. 

"With  mingled  emotions  of  joy  and  sorrow,  Charley  wended  his 
way  over  the  slope  that  intervened  between  the  encampment  and 
the  town.  Old  memories  rushed  through  his  mind.  The  past,  the 
present,  the  future,  each  crowded  upon  his  thoughts  with  their 
promises,  their  sadness,  until,  bewildered,  he  could  only  feel — not 
think. 

To-night  he  should  see  Mary — perhaps  for  the  last  time.  Should 
they  meet  ngain,  it  must  be  after  years  had  run  their  weary  round. 
Perhaps — and  he  shuddered  at  the  thought — perhaps  the  Angel  of 
Death  might  come  and  intervene  his  dark  wing — and  they  should 
never  again  meet  until  they  should  together  stand  before  the  Great 
"White  Throne  above. 

He  was  passing  through  the  beautiful  lawn  w^hich  bounds  that 
famous  stream,  the  "Big  Spring  of  Georgetown,"  when  he  heard 
a  ringing  laugh,  which  was  all  too  familiar  to  be  mistaken.  Seek- 
ing the  point  from  whence  it  issued,  he  found  Mary,  Jenny,  and 
John  reposing  on  the  grassy  mound,  which  rises  like  a  throne 


OF    MORGAN   AND   HIS    MEN.  213 

above  the  irnriclitic  spring,  the  mossy  haunt  of  tlie  guardian  naiad 
of  these  crystal  waters. 

Charley  approached  tliem,  and  seating  himself  on  the  green  car- 
pet beside  the  group,  joined  in  the  merry  conversation,  which  was 
chiefly  supported  l)y  Jenny  and  John.  There  was  a  want  of  inter- 
est in  his  words,  and  his  air  was  that  of  one  whose  thouglits  were 
far  removed. 

Mary  was  silent  and  embarrassed.  She,  too,  had  essayed  to 
join  in  the  merry  chat,  but  her  words  were  without  intere^^t,  her 
sentences  left  uiifinislied.  Her  eyes,  sought  the  ground,  or  looked 
listlessly  out  into  vacuity ;  while  the  varying  shades  that  passed 
over  her  now  thoughtful  and  saddened  face  told  the  changeful 
feelings  that  thronged- her  bosom.  Iler  soul  was  burdened  with  a 
fearful  sorrow.  Afar  off  in  the  future  she  saw  the  shadow  which 
now  fell  so  ominously  about  her,  deepening  and  deepening,  until 
it  became  impenetrable  gloom. 

Slie  had  parted  once  before  with  Charley,  but  then  she  felt  no 
fear.  All  was  bright  and  hopeful,  and  adown  the  opening  vista 
she  looked  and  beheld  everywhere  sunlight  and  joy.  Why  the 
change — this  sad,  this  fearful  change  ?  She  could  not  tell. 
There  was  no  cause  in  the  present  for  this  dark  foreboding.  Why 
should  she  borrow  sombre  clouds  from  the  future?  She  asked 
herself  the  question,  and  her  heart  answered,  "  Coming  events  cast 
their  shadows  before."  But  she  would  be  cheerful ;  for  Charley's 
sake  she  would  cast  away  her  despondency  and  be  herself  again. 
She  made  the  #ndeavor,  and  for  a  few  minutes  succeeded  in 
assuming  her  wonted  gayety.  But  it  was  a  desperate  effort,  and 
could  not  last. 

Charley  observed  the  marked  change  in  her  manner,  and  it 
served  to  increase  the  sadness  which  was  brooding  so  heavily  over 
his  own  heart.  He  looked  on  that  sweet  face,  usually  so  radiant 
with  smiles,  and  its  thoughtful,  pensive  cast,  rendering  it  tenfold 
more  beautiful,  was  as  a  barbed  arrow  to  his  soul. 

And  those  large,  lustrous  eyes,  ever  the  home  of  gladness,  now, 
despite  herself,  suffused  with  tears,  spoke  to  his  tremblmg,  loving 
heart  in  tones  of  resistless  eloquence  the  deep  feeling  that  she  was 
struggling  to  suppress. 

Charley  led  her  slightly  apart  from  the  others,  and  seated  her 
beneath  the  wide-spread  boughs  of  an  old  oak-tree  that  crowned 
the  summit  of  the  gently  rising  slope.  The  moon  stole  through 
the  overhanging  arches,  and  fell  in  silvery  shimmer  on  the 
smoothly  shorn  grass  at  their  feet. 


214:  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

For  several  nionients  the  two  remained  silent.  Charley  felt  his 
heart  bursting  to  tell  her  all  he  felt — all  he  hoped — all  he  feared — 
but  he  knew  not  where  to  begin. 

"Mary,"  he  said,  at  length,  "I  go  away  from  you  to-m«»rr<>w. 
This  is  the  last  time  I  shall  see  you  for  months — perhaps  for  years 
— indeed,  Mary,  we  may  never  meet  again.  You  know  the  chances 
of  war  are  uncertain  ;"  and  he  paused,  unable  to  proceed.  Sup- 
pressing his  feelings,  he  resumed:  "We  may  never  meet  again  on 
earth,  Mary  ;  but  let  me  pledge  you  once  more,  here  beneath  these 
bending  heavens,  whose  myriad  beings  witness  the  vow,  that  in 
death  as  in  life  my  love  shall  be  yours.  I  need  not  tell  you  of  that 
love,  Mary  ;  you  know  its  depths — its  constancy.  But  I  felt,  as  I 
sat  beside  you  on  that  mossy  slope,  that  it  was  perhaps  asking  of 
you  too  great  a  sacrifice  to  remain  pledged  to  me,  when  there 
seems  to  be  so  little  promise  of  any  consummation  of  our  hai)pi- 
ness.  And  here,  Mary,  I  would  say — though  it  is  like  driving  the 
cold  steel  through  my  own  bosom — that  if  you  prefer,  I  will  re- 
lease you  from  an  engagement  which,  under  the  present  circum- 
stances, may  prove  unpleasant  to  you. 

She  turned  upon  him  those  large  soft  eyes,  now  filled  with 
tears,  and  her  voice  was  low  and  tremulous.  "  Charley,  do  you 
doubt  me  ?  Else  why  this  proposal  ?"  The  tears  gushed  from 
her  eyes,  and  streamed  over  her  sad  face. 

'^  "Doubt  you,  Mary;  doult  you!  No!  no!"  he  replied,  with 
deep  earnestness ;  and  he  threw  his  arm  around  her,  and  drew  her 
to  his  bosom.  "Doubt  you  I  never,  never,  Mary  U  Sooner  would 
I  doubt  the  words  of  Holy  Writ  than  the  love  which,  amid  change 
and  time,  has  shown  itself  unchanging — steadfast  as  the  founda- 
tions of  the  earth.  I  know  your  love  is  as  true  as  the  heavens 
themselves.  But,  Mary,  you  are  young,  beautiful,  admired,  court- 
ed, and  is  it  not  wrong — ask  your  own  heart,  is  it  not  unjust  to 
yourself — to  bind  yourself  to  one  who  has  not  now  the  remotest 
prospect  of  rendering  you  happy?" 

"If  you  do  not  doubt  me,  Charley,  and  will  promise  to  love  me 
always,  I  ask  no  more;"  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face  with 
such  a  sweet  trusting  smile,  that  Charley  felt  it  to  live  the  bliss  of 
years  in  those  few  fleeting  moments. 

"It  is  enough,  Mary!"  he  exclaimed,  while  his  tears  fell  thick 
and  fast,  "I  ask  no  more.  I  shall  go  feeling  in  the  depths  of  my 
soul  that,  come  what  may,  you  will  prove  constant  and  true. 
And  I  pledge  yt)U  here,  before  the  Great  Jehovah,  whose  eye 
looks  now  upon  us,  and  the  shining  angels  around  His  throne,  that 


OF   MORGAN    ASD    Hid   MEN.  215 

never,  never,  whil^  life  lasts,  shall  your  image  pjiss  from  its  sacred 
temple  in  my  heart." 

lie  drew  forth  a  locket,  and  threw  the  cluiin  about  her  neck. 
"Look  at  that,  Mary,  when  I  am  gone,  and  remember  always  that 
I  love  you."  lie  pressed  her  to  his  bosom,  and  kissed  her  long 
and  fervently. 

**  I  go  now,  Mary.  To  remain,  is  but  to  torture  both  your  heart 
and  mine.  God  bless  you— God  blessyou !"  He  kissed  her  once 
more,  and  leading  her  back  to  her  brother  and  friends,  bade  them 
farewell,  and  hastened  away. 


216  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  TRAP— THE  TABLES  TURNED. 

On  the  velvet  grass,  beside  tlie  Big  Spring  at  Georgetown,  lay 
the  manly  form  of  Colonel  Morgan,  stretched  out  at  full  length, 
reading  the  Cincinnati  and  Louisville  papers  of  the  previous  day. 

"The  trap  has  been  laid,"  said  the  Louisville  e7<??/rnaZ,  *'and  the 
horse-thief  Morgan  has  fallen  into  it.  He  is  now  at  Georgetown, 
with  Frankfort  on  one  side  of  him,  Paris  and  Cynthiana  on  the 
other — with  Lexington  in  his  front — each  point  with  as  many  men 
as  he  has  in  his  whole  command.  There  is  no  way  of  escape  for 
him,  unless  he  decides  to  betake  himself  to  the  Ohio  river,  where 
he  will  find  ample  opportunity  to  cool  the  ardor  of  his  patriotism. 
Caught  at  last,  let  every  loyal  heart  rejoice  that  this  traitor,  thief, 
and  coward,  is  soon  to  meet  his  just  doom." 

"  We  may  expect  to  see  the  reckless  guerilla  chief,  John  Morgan, 
soon  a  prisoner  in  our  city,"  said  the  Cincinnati  Gazette.  " Escape 
is  now  impossible.  He  is  surrounded  on  all  sides,  and  there  is  no 
outlet  from  the  mesh  which  environs  him,  save  through  our  city 
to  Fort  Warren." 

"Caught  at  last,"  wrote  the  editor  of  the  Commercial.  "•  John 
Morgan,  the  noted  bandit  and  horse-thief,  is  at  length  entrapped. 
Reliable  information  locates  him  and  his  dirty  followers  at  George- 
town, completely  surrounded  by  our  troops,  who,  under  their  gal- 
lant leaders,  will  soon  make  an  easy  prey  of  their  victim.  He  is 
now  just  in  the  situation  we  have  long  desired  to  place  him,  and 
the  next  intelligence  we  look  for  will  be  the  announcement  that 
the  whole  gang  is  bagged." 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !"  broke  out  the  colonel.  Dashing  the  papers  from 
him,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  approached  the  murmuring  spring. 

"  What's  that,  colonel,  that  pleases  you  so?"  asked  his  adjutant. 

"Nothing,  x^lston,  except  that  we  are  now  completely  entrapped 
by  the  Yankees ;  surrounded  on  all  sides ;  no  way  of  escape.  Here, 
read  for  yourself.  Great  and  mighty  prophets,  these  Northern 
editors.  But  we'll  see,"  and  the  colonel  stooped  and  drank  a  re- 
freshing draught  from  the  cool,  crystal  waters  of  the  old  spring 


OF    MORGAN    AJSD    1116    MEN.  217 

'* Gastleinaii  hn^  left?"  &:tid  the  colonel,  looking  round  from  his 
stooping  position  to  the  adjutant,  who  stood  reading  the  papers, 
highly  anuised  at  the  startling  announcements. 

*'T\vo  or  three  hours  since,  colonel.  They  have  already  reach- 
ed the  railroad,  and  successfully  accomplished  their  business,  I 
hope,  and  are  now  iiienueiiig  Lexington  from  the  Winchester  pike." 

''We  must  leave  here  at  an  early  hoi^  to-iyorro\v  morning,  be- 
fore sun-up.  Let  every  thing  be  ready,  Alston.  Harrison,  with  a 
company  of  seventy-five  men,  must  menace  Lexington  from  the 
Georgetown  pike,  as  soon  as  the  day  dawns.  If  necessary,  we 
must  drive  their  pickets  into  tfie  very  town." 

The  adjutant  bowed,  and  left  to  carry  out  the  orders.  Colonel 
Morgan  threw  himself  on  the  green  sward  to  perfect  his  plans. 

The  evening  was  very  warm.  The  thermometer  stood  at  ninety, 
but  the  thick  foliage  of  the  grand  old  oak,  beneath  which  the  col- 
onel reposed,  shut  out  the  sun's  scorching  rays.  The  breezes 
danced  among  the  leaves  overheard — the  clear,  limpid  waters  gur- 
gled at  his  feet. 

''  Dotards  !"  exclaimed  Morgan  to  himself,  laughing.  "  Do  they 
think  I  would  allow  myself  to  be  hemmed  in  and  taken  by  them  ? 
Old  Prentice  will  have  another  tale  to  tell  his  gullible  readers  be- 
fore the  setting  of  to-morrow's  sun." 

Colonel  Morgan  took  a  calm  survey  of  the  position  of  affairs. 
All  Indiana,  Ohio,  and  Kentucky  were  aroused,  and  from  every 
available  point,  troops  had  been  forwarded  for  the  purpose  of  sur- 
rounding him  and  '*  bagging  his  whole  force." 

Heavy  reinforcements  had  been  sent  from  Cincinnati  to  Cynthi- 
ana,  and  from  thence  to  Paris.  A  large  force  was  assembled  at 
Lexington,  at  Frankfort,  and  at  Louisville.  But,  as  the  road  was 
destroyed  between  Lexington  and  Frankfort,  no  reinforcements 
could  be  furnished  the  former  city  by  the  latter.  Lexington,  if 
threatened,  must  depend  for  succor  on  Paris.  This  would  relieve 
this  point,  and  also  greatly  weaken  Cynthiana. 

Castleman,  on  the  morrow,  would  advance  upon  Lexington  from 
the  direction  of  Winchester.  Harrison,  with  his  men,  would,  at 
the  same  time,  threaten  the  city  from  Georgetown.  This  must 
necessarily  create  a  jfhnic,  and  the  withdrawal  of  troops  from  the 
line  of  the  Lexington  and  Covington  railroad. 

''What's  the  news  from  Frankfort?"  asked  Morgan  of  his  cou- 
rier, as  he  rode  up,  covered  with  dust  and  perspiration. 

"About  three  thousand  troops,  colonel,  and  fortifying.  Ex- 
pecting an  attack  every  hour." 

10 


218  EAJDS   AND   KOMANCF, 

"  Ah,  hah  !"  ejaculated  the  colonel  to  himself.  "All  right^usl 
as  I  desire." 

The  morning  snn  was  jnst  beginning  to  beam  above  the  eastern 
korizon,  when  Colonel  Morgan,  at  the  head  of  his  men,  set  off  at  a 
rapid  pace  on  the  road  that  leads  from  Georgetown  to  Cynthiana. 
They  had  proceeded  but  a  few  yards,  when  a  courier  dashed  to 
his  side. 

"How  is  Lexington?"  inquired  the  colonel,  checking  his  horse. 

"  All  in  consternation,  colonel,  since  yesterday  evening.  It  is 
believed  that  our  men,  to  the  number  of  several  thousand,  are 
moving  on  that  place  from  Winchester;  that  the  road  to  Paris 
was  destroyed,  and  that  you  would  attack  the  city  early  this 
morning.  Couriers  were  immediately  dispatched  to  Paris  for  re- 
inforcements just  as  soon  as  the  news  reached  Lexington,  and 
troops  had  already  commenced  to  pour  in  from  that  point  when  I 
left,  about  two  hours  ago." 

"Did  you  meet  Captain  Harrison  and  his  men?" 

"  I  did,  sir,  half  way  to  Lexington." 

"  Trapped,  bagged,  indeed  I"  said  Morgan.  "Til  show  them 
who's  bagged." 

The  July  sun  poured  down  his  hot,  scorching  rays  on  the  mov- 
ing column,  as  it  dashed  along  the  dusty  limestone  road.  The 
springs  and  streams  were  dry,  and  not  a  drop  of  water  could  be 
obtained  for  man  or  horse,  after  leaving  Elkhorn  creek  at  George- 
town. 

It  was  just  past  noon  when  the  wearied  and  dust-covered  col- 
umn of  almost  famished  men  were  ordered  to  halt,  three  miles 
from  Cynthiana.  The  scouts  that  had  been  sent  forward  to  as- 
certain the  position  of  affairs  at  that  place,  returned,  bringing  the 
inttlligence  that  a  large  force  of  infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery 
was  well  posted  in  the  town  for  its  defence. 

"  Call  Major  Gano,"  ordered  Colonel  Morgan.  "  Major,"  said 
he  to  that  officer,  who  promptly  appeared  in  response  to  the  call, 
*'  take  your  Texas  squadron  and  make  your  way  round  so  as  to 
enter  the  town  from  the  right ;  and  you,  Colonel  Har{)er,  with 
your  regiment  of  Georgians,  cross  the  river  and  get  into  the  rear. 
Lieutenant  Harrison,  you,  with  your  artillery,  accompany  me. 
The  attack  will  be  made  by  me  in  front  in  half  an  hour." 

The  Texas  and  Georgia  regiments  dashed  off  to  take  the  posi- 
tions assigned  them. 

Colonel  Morgan,  at  the  head  of  his  men,  moved  down  the  pike. 
"When  within  half  a  mile  of  the  town,  orders  were  given  for  four 


OF   MORGAN  AND   HIS   MEN.  219 

hundred  men  to  dismount  and  secure  their  horses  in  a  woodland 
to  tlie  right.  The  others  were  to  remain  mounted,  and  da^h  upon 
the  cavuh-y  of  the  enemy,  his  infantry  being  !n  most  excellent 
position,  just  outside  the  town,  protected  by  a  stone  fence. 

Tiie  engagement  commenced  by  tiie  firing  of  a  volley  from  the 
enemy,  upon  the  advancing  column.  TliTs  was  quickly  responded 
to  by  Harrison's  battery. 

"Forward  !"  rang  out,  and  the  men,  inspired  by  their  leader's 
presence  and  daring,  rushed  on  tiie  concealed  foe.  The  Federal 
cavalry  were  soon  driven  back  before  the  impetuous  onset  of  the 
Confederates,  But  the  infantry,  protected  by  the  stone  fence,  held 
their  position,  and  continued  to  pour  volley  after  volley  into  the 
advancing  ranks. 

Here  and  there  fell  one  and  another,  killed  or  wounded.  But 
the  moving  force  pressed  steadily  on.  Showers  of  bullets  cut  the 
air  and  sped  on  their  work  of  death.  The  loud  and  rapid  dis- 
charge of  artillery  stunned  the  ear  with  deafening  roar.  For  an 
hour  the  contest  rnged  with  the  wildest  fierceness  on  both  sides. 
The  Federals  knowing  their  advantage  in  position,  and  stimulated 
by  the  cheering  words  of  their  commanders,  were  determined  not 
to  yield. 

But  they  could  no  longer  withstand  the  impetuous  charges  of 
Morgan's  men,  who  fought  with  more  than  their  wonted  despera- 
tion, and  finally  they  began  to  retreat.  They  fell  slowly  back, 
taking  advantage  of  every  fence  and  house, -to  shelter  themselves, 
and  fire  upon  their  pursuers.  There  was  a  stone  wall  within  the 
Burburbs  of  the  town,  behind  which  a  squad  of  men  had  taken 
cover,  and  from  this  protected  point  they  poured  into  the  Confed- 
erate ranks  a  sharp  and  destructive  fire.  They  could  be  dislodged 
only  by  a  direct  charge  upon  their  position.  Private  Moore,  of 
Louisiana,  heading  a  company  of  twenty-five  men,  rushed  upon 
it  in  face  of  a  rapid  fire  of  musketry,  and,  leaping  the  fence,  routed 
the  enemy,  who  fled  in  wild  confusion,  throwing  aside  guns  and 
haversacks  in  their  precipitate  flight. 

The  Home  Guard  made  a  sudden  rush  for  the  Court-house, 
but  this  movement  had  been  anticipated,  and  a  detachment  of 
Confederate  cavalry  swept  round  and  cut  ofi"  their  retreat.  The 
regulars  were  hemmed  in  between  Morgan  in  front  and  Gano  on 
the  right,  wiiile  the  Georgians  moved  up  in  the  rear.  Thus  com- 
pletely surrounded,  they  saw  nothing  before  them  but  a  hand  to 
hand  fight. 

Suddenly  white  handkerchiefs  were  observed  streaming  from 


220  KAIDS   AKD   ROMANCE 

the  points  of  many  bayonets,  and  waviug  from  windows.  The 
battle  was  over.     Piie  vanquished  enemy  had  surrendered. 

Four  hundred  and  twenty  persons  were  soon  paraded  in  front 
of  the  Court-house  for  parole,  among  whom  were  seventy  Home 
Guards. 

Colonel  Morgan,  whiler  crossing  the  street,  had  his  attention  ar- 
rested by  a  little  girl  who  ran  wildly  along  shrieking  with  fright. 
He  caught  the  child  in  his  arms,  and  asked  her  what  was  the 
matter. 

She  laid  her  little  bare  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  sobbed  wildly. 
He  smoothed  her  tangled  hair,  patted  her  stained  cheeks,  and  with 
soothing  voice  endeavored  to  assuage  her  grief. 

It  was  several  moments  before  she  could  speak. 

"  Oh,  my  father — my  dear  father  !  They  have  got  him  !  I  will 
never  see  him  no  more!"  And  the  little,  trembUug  creature  burst 
into  a  fresli  paroxysm  of  tears. 

"  Where  is  your  father,  my  child  ?"  asked  the  colonel,  in  a  soft 
tone,  at  the  same  time  continuing  his  caresses. 

"  The  Secesh  has  got  him,  sir.  They'll  put  him  in  the  big  prison. 
Aunt  Nancy  told  me  so." 

"  And  where  is  your  mother,  my  child  ?" 

"I  haven't  got  no  mother,  sir.  She's  went  up  to  heaven,  when 
I  was  a  little  baby." 

Colonel  Morgan  felt  the  tears  rush  to  his  eyes.  He  thought  of 
his  own  little  girl  and  her  mother  now  in  heaven.  He  understood 
the  whole  case,  and  bearing  the  child  in  his  arms,  he  moved  into 
the  midst  of  the  prisoners. 

''Whose  child  is  this?"  asked  the  colonel.  "Is  her  father 
here?" 

A  man — one  of  the  Home  Guards — rushed  forward. 

"It  is  my  child,  colonel.  Thank  you — thank  you  for  your 
kindness,"  said  the  grateful  father,  as  the  tears  streamed  down 
his  face. 

It  was  an  affecting  incident — such  a  one  as  sometimes  occurs 
to  relieve  the  horrors  of  dread-visaged  war.  And  none  of  those 
who  witnessed  it  were  ever  known  to  call  Colonel  Morgan  harsh 
names  after  that. 

The  men  were  speedily  paroled  and  sent  under  an  escort  to  Fal- 
mouth, where  they  took  cars  for  Cincinnati.  Colonel  Morgan 
found  himself  possessor  of  a  fine  12-pounder  brass  piece  of  artillerj-, 
a  large  number  of  small-arms,  a  great  supply  of  commissary  and 
medical  stores,  tents,  ammunition,  and  about  three  hundred  gov- 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  221 

eminent  horses.  The  horses — such  as  were  deemed  fit — were  se- 
lected by  the  men ;  the  stores  of  all  kinds,  together  with  the  am- 
munition, were  destroyed. 

The  command  rested  in  Cynthiana  for  the  night,  ready  to  set 
out  on  their  victorious  march  at  an  early  hour  on  the  following 
morning. 


222  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

PARIS,    RICHMOND,    CRAB    ORCHARD,    SOMERSET, 

The  alarm  and  uncertainty  which  pervaded  the  Federal  forces 
in  central  Kentucky  at  the  brilliant  exploits  of  Colonel  Morgan, 
and  the  rapidity  of  his  movement.*,  can  scarcely  be  conceived. 
Lexington  and  Paris  both  threatened,  Cynthiana  taken,  no  one 
could  decide  which  would  be  the  next  point  of  attack.  Lexington 
called  upon  Paris  for  reinforcements — Paris,  in  reply,  demanded 
succor  of  Lexington.  But  the  condition  of  the  latter  city  became 
so  hazardous,  menaced  as  it  was  from  the  direction  of  Georgetown 
and  Richmond,  that  it  was  finally  decided  t6  concentrate  the  troops 
within  its  limits  for  its  defence.  Accordingly,  the  forces  were 
ordered  from  Paris  to  Lexington,  leaving  the  former  town  wholly 
at  the  mercy  of  the  advancing  foe. 

On  the  19th  of  July,  the  day  following  the  capture  of  Cynthiana, 
Colonel  Morgan  moved  upon  Paris,  now  entirely  undefended. 
When  within  a  few  miles  of  the  city,  he  met  a  flag  of  truce,  ten- 
dering him  the  peaceful  and  quiet  possession  of  the  place,  and 
when  he  entered  the  streets,  cheers  and  welcomes  rang  out  on  the 
air.  Remaining  here  through  the  night,  Colonel  Morgan  under- 
stood, through  his  scouts,  that  very  nearly  the  entire  force  from 
Lexington  was  being  moved  upon  Paris,  for  the  purpose  of  attack- 
ing him,  Kot  desiring  an  engagement,  when  it  could  be  avoided, 
Colonel  Morgan  determined  to  fall  back  upon  Richmond,  prepara- 
tory to  leaving  the  State.  Accordingly,  orders  were  issued  to  the 
men  to  be  ready  to  march  early  the  following  morning.  Mean- 
while, pickets  kept  watch,  lest  at  any  time  they  should  be  sur- 
prised. 

As  the  Confederates  were  setting  out  the  next  day  towaras 
Richmond,  they  discovered  the  Federals  moving  towards  the  town 
from  Lexington.  Colonel  Morgan  called  a  halt,  and,  by  a  little 
manoeuvring,  so  scared  the  Yankees,  who  supposed  he  intended  to 
flank  them,  that  they  wheeled  about  and  made  a  quick  retreat. 
Thus  relieved  of  their  presence.  Colonel  Morgan  was  enabled  to 
bring  off  all  his  guns  and  stores  without  molestation  or  detriment. 


OP  MOEGAN  AND   HIS   MEN.  223 

The  only  loss  sustained  was  that  of  one  picket,  wlio,  it  was  s;up- 
posed,  was  surprised  and  captured  by  the  enemy  in  their  advance. 

From  Paris  the  Confederate  force  marched  to  Richmond.  Here 
tlie  warmest  enthusiasm  {^jreeted  them  on  all  sides.  Their  passage 
through  the  town  to  their  encampment  beyond,  was  a  grand  ova- 
tion, each  individual  vieing  with  his  neighbor  in  his  endeavors  lo 
manifest  his  delight  and  approbation.  Ladies  showered  bouquets 
and  waved  handkerchiefs — children  waved  handkerchiefs  and 
smiled — men,  old  and  young,  smiled,  and  bowed,  and  hurrahed. 
Ample  [trovislon  v/as  made  for  a  luxurious  repast  for  the  whole 
command,  who  partook  of  tlie  kindly  cheer  with  right  good  zest, 
their  appetites  being  well  developed  by  their  long  and  weary  ride. 
Several  recruits  joined  them  here,  who  were  furnished  with  arms 
and  mounted. 

It  had  been  Colonel  Morgan's  intention  to  remain  in  Richmond 
several  days,  thereby  giving  an  opportunity  for  the  enrolment  of 
many  who  were  desirous  to  enlist  under  bis  standard,  but  being 
informed  that  a  large  cavalry  force  had  been  sent  out  by  way  of 
Danville  to  intercept  and  cut  vS  his  retreat,  he  determined  to 
thwart  their  plans  by  pushing  forward  to  Crab  Orchard,  which 
point  he  reached  the  22d  July,  at  daybreak. 

There  he  found  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  wagons  and 
about  one  million  dollars'  worth  of  stores,  all  of  which  was  given 
into  the  hands  of  his  men  to  be  destroyed,  as  it  was  impossible  to 
remove  any  tiling  over  that  rugged,  broken  country.  The  boys 
gave  themselves  to  the  w^ork  of  burning  and  breaking  with  great 
zest,  and  soon  the  gigantic  task  was  accomplished  and  the  whole 
column  again  on  the  advance  towards  Somerset,  which  was 
reached  at  sundown  of  the  same  day.  This  point  was  the  depot 
of  the  Federal  army  at  Cumberland  Gap,  and  contained  large 
stores.  Colonel  Morgan,  feeling  entire  safety,  took  possession  of 
the  telegraph  office,  and  countermanded  every  order  of  General 
Boyle  with  regard  to  the  movement  of  the  troops  still  in  pursuit 
of  him.  There  another  million  dollars'  worth  of  Federal  prt)per:y 
w\as  destroyed,  and  a  thousand  stand  of  arms  recaptured  that  had 
been  taken  from  General  Zollicoffer's  forces  at  the  memorable  and 
disastrous  engagement  at  Fisiiing  Creek. 

Having  here  rested  his  troops,  Colonel  Morgan  moved  forward 
to  Sparta,  which  point  he  reached  July  2it\\,  having  been  absent 
on  his  expedition  just  twenty  days,  during  which  time  he  "cap- 
tured (and  paroled)  over  twelve  hundred  prisoners,  seven  thou- 
sand stand  of  arms,  one  gun,  and  destroyed,  at  lowest  computa- 


224  RAIDS   AKD   ROMANCE 

tion,  seven  and  a  half  million  dollars'  worth  of  stores,  arm<5,  and 
subsistence,  besides  hospital  buildings,  bridges  and  other  propertv. 
Besides  this,  with  the  loss  of  only  ninety  men,  he  dispersed  over 
seventeen  hundred  Home  Guards,  captured  seventeen  towns,  in 
whic'li  he  destroyed  war  matej-ial,  and  marched  above  one  thou- 
sand miles,  and  recruited  his  force  of  eight  hundred  and  seveutv 
men  to  twelve  hundred." 

After  Colonel  Morgan's  return  from  Kentucky  into  Tennessee, 
the  latter  part  of  July,  he  removed  his  headquarters  to  Hartsville, 
a  small  town  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Cumberland,  some  twelve 
or  fifteen  miles  from  Gallatin,  in  a  direct  line,  but  much  further 
tlian  this  by  the  river. 

There  was  a  Federal  force,  mostly  Kentuckians,  in  possession  of 
Gallatin,  commanded  by  Colonel  Bruce.  Colonel  Morgan  deter- 
mined to  capture  the  town,  Yankees  and  all,  and  to  this  end  he 
sent  a  force  under  Captain  Desha  to  execute  his  purpose.  This 
was  on  the  morning  of  the  12th  of  August.  The  detachment  was 
accompanied  by  George  A.  Ellsworth,  telegraph  operator,  who 
had,  on  so  many  occasions,  rendered  Colonel  Morgan  valuable 
assistance  while  in  Kentucky.  The  morning  was  beautifully 
bright ;  the  sun  had  scarcely  risen  when  the  party  found  them- 
selves within  two  miles  of  the  town.  Dashing  forward  so  as  to 
catch  the  Federal  colonel  unawares,  the  Confederates  were  de- 
manding the  surrender  of  the  place  before  the  Yankees  knew 
aught  of  their  unwelcome  presence  in  their  vicinity.  The  move- 
ment was  comme  il  faut.  The  Federals  were  completely  sur- 
prised. No  resistance  whatever  was  offered,  but  surrender  came 
as  if  it  had  been  a  premeditated  thing.  The  men,  with  their  col- 
onel, were  paroled  by  Captain  Desha.  When,  however,  the 
])aroled  colonel  and  his  men  reached  Louisville,  a  few  days  after- 
wards, they  were  arrested  on  the  charge  of  cowardice,  and  sent 
forward  to  Camp  Chase  for  imprisonment. 

Colonel  Bruce  was  severely  reprimanded  for  yielding  his  coin- 
Miand  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy  without  a  struggle;  but  he 
argued  that  resistance,  under  the  circumstances,  was  wholly  use- 
less. They  were  surrounded  by  the  Confederates  without  a  mo- 
ment's warning.  His  men  were  not  under  arms,  there  was  no 
organization,*  nor  could  any  be  effected  before  the  rebels  were 
upon  them. 

While  Captain  Desha,  assisted  by  Captain  McCann,  of  the 
Cheatham  Rifles,  was  scaring  the  Yankee  Kentuckians  out  of  all 
Fense  of  propriety  by  marching  upon  them,  mm  ceremonie^  and 


OF   MOKGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  225 

clairaiDg  them  as  prisoners,  Mr.  Ellsworth  was  playing  his  part  of 
the  game  by  annoying  the  enemy  with  dispatches.  Dashing  into 
Gallatin,  on  his  fine  chestnut  sorrel  steed,  booted  and  spurred  like 
any  other  brave  Knight  of  the  Southern  Cross,  he  rode  quickly 
up  to  the  principal  hotel  and  iu(iuired,  in  quite  a  peremptory  tone, 
for  the  telegraph  office. 

^'At  the  depot,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter  of  the  public  house, 
looking  at  him  in  blank  astonishment. 

Ellsworth  hesitated  no  further.  Spurring  his  horse,  he  galhjped 
olf  at  full  dash  to  the  depot.  Alighting,  hurriedly,  and  throwing 
the  rein  over  his  horse's  head,  he  burst  open  the  door,  and  sprung 
up  stairs  to  the  bedroom  of  the  sleeping  operator,  who,  aroused  by 
the  dreadful  noise,  looked  up  from  his  bed  to  see — oh,  horror  1— a 
'•  rebel"  standing  over  him  with  a  six-shooter  presented  at  his  head. 
Pale  with  affright  at  this  most  fearful  apparition,  he  sat  stark 
upright  in  the  bed.  Could  it  be  so?  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and 
gazed  wildly  up.  There  it  stood.  Was  it  ghost  or  de'il,  or  what 
was  tenfold  worse  than  either— an  avenging  rebel?  His  hair 
stood  on  end.  His  eyes  stared  fearfully  from  their  sockets ;  his 
lips  were  pale  and  motionless;  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot, 
like  one  suddenly  seized  with  a  strong  ague. 

"  Why  are  you  so  scared,  man  ?"  said  Ellsworth  to  him.  "  I  do 
not  want  your  life— behave  yourself,  and  you  have  nothing  to  fear. 
Resist,  and  you  are  a  dead  man.  Dress  yourself  and  come  with 
me;  Colonel  Morgan  nfeeds  your  services  in  the  room  below." 

The  poor  affrighted  operator,  somewhat  reassured,  sprung  from 
his  bed  at  the  word  of  command,  and  hastily  donned  his  apparel. 
As  he  gave  the  last  few  hurried  strokes  to  his  hair,  Ellsworth, 
impatient  of  waiting,  turned  upon  him  and  said  : 
"  Now,  follow  me,  sir,  to  the  room  below." 
The  man  seized  his  hat  and  obeyed  the  command  with  alacrity. 
">fow,  show  me  all  your  signals.     Mind,  no  cheat.     I  will  not 
be  imposed  on,"  said  Ellsworth  sternly,  as  the  two  reached  the 
room  and  stood  beside  the  desk. 

Had  the  operator  thought  for  a  moment  of  deception,  the  blood- 
thirsty look  of  the  huge  revolver  which  Ellsworth  still  held  in  his 
hand,  would  have  dissipated  any  such  intention  in  a  moment. 
"  Now,  let  me  test  the  line  to  Nashville  and  Louisville." 
The  Yankee,  with  a  gracious  smile,  stepped  aside. 
"  O.  K.,"  said  Ellsworth  ;  "  what  is  your  earliest  office  hour  ?" 
''Seven-thirty  minutes,  sir,"  responded  the  operator,  bowing 
obsequiously. 

10* 


226  RAIDS-  AND   EOM^INCE      ' 

''  And  it  is  now  just  five,"  said  Ellsworth,  taking  out  his  watch 
and  looking  at  the  time;  "  two  hours  and  a  half  before  I  can  begin 
ray  work." 

Ellsworth  ordered  breakfast  for  himself  and  prisoner,  and  tlie 
two  sat  down  side  by  side  to  the  steaming  coffee  and  smoking  rolls 
as  if  they  had  always  been  the  veriest  cronies. 

"  Seven  o'clock!  we  must  to  our  work,  sir!"  and  Ellsworth  es- 
corted his  new-found  friend  from  the  breakfast-table  back  to  the 
oflSce. 

Placing  Mr.  Brooks  outside  the  office  under 'guard,  Ellsworth 
entered  and  took  possession,  feeling  that  he  sufficiently  unde^rstood 
matters  to  communicate  with  any  point. 

The  signal  was  given  at  seven  and  ten  minutes.  It  was  from 
the  depot  office  in  Nashville. 

"Train  left  here  for  Louisville  on  time." 

Another  signal,  and  the  operator  at  Franklin,  Kentucky,  informed 
Gallatin  that  the  train  had  left  on  time  for  the  South. 

Ellsworth  stepped  to  the  door. 

"  Tell  Captain  McCann  I  wish  to  see  him  at  this  place  immedi- 
ately," he  said  to  a  Confederate  soldier  who  was  standing  near. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  captain  rushed  into  the  room. 

"Any  trouble,  Ellsworth  ?" 

"The  train  from  Franklin  will  be  due,  captain,  in  a  very  Uttle 
while.     Had  you  not  as  well  prepare  to  take  charge  of  her  ?" 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  Ellsworth.  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure  ;" 
and  the  captain  dashed  out,  called  together  his  men,  and  posted 
them  in  proper  position  for  the  proposed  business. 

Soon  the  train  came  steaming  on,  all  unconscious  of  danger.  She 
had  scarcely  reached  the  water-tank,  just  outside  the  town,  when 
the  Confederates  very  politely  made  known  their  desire  to  take  her 
in  charge. 

This  was  readily  assented  to  by  the  engineer  and  conductor, 
who  saw  that  resistance  or  escape  was  not  for  a  moment  to  be 
thought  of. 

The  train  from  Nashville  was  due,  but  there  were  no  indications 
yet  of  her  arrival. 

Ellsworth,  seating  himself,  asked  of  the  Nashville  operator : 
"  Train  No.  6  not  yet  arrived.    What  can  be  the  trouble  with  her  V 

The  reply  soon  came.  "  Guess  Morgan's  got  her ;  she  left  ou 
time  with  twenty -four  cars,  six  loaded." 

Bowling  Green  called  Gallatin.  "  Where  is  the  Nashville  train  ? 
Heard  any  thing  from  her  ?" 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS   MEN.  227 

"Not  yet  arrived,"  responded  Ellsworth. 

Bowling  Green  then  called  Nashville.  "  Gallatin  says  No.  6  Dot 
yet  arrived;  have  you  heard  from  it?" 

Nashville,  in  reply,  said:   ''No;  they  left  on  time." 

Bowling  Green,  quite  perturbed  and  beginning  to  suspect  foul 
play,  called  to  Nashville:  "Any  rumors  of  the  enemy  between 
Nashville  and  Gallatin?" 

"Nary  rumor!"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

Gallatin  was  then  informed  by  Nashville  that  the  passenger  train 
had  left  on  time,  .bound  North. 

Inquiry  after  inquiry  was  made  of  Gallatin  with  regard  to  the 
two  trains,  both  by  Nashville  and  Bowling  Green.  The  invariable 
response  of  Gallatin  was,  "Not  yet  arrived." 

Eleven  o'clock  came.  Nashville,  as  if  aroused  by  some  sudden 
fury,  began  to  call  on  Gallatin  with  great  earnestness. 

Ellsworth  suspected  the  cause.  The  cars,  having  obtained  in- 
formation of  the  occuf)aiicy  of  Gallatin  by  the  Confederates,  had 
suddenly  put  back  to  Nashville  and  given  the  alarnj.  Questions 
were  asked  which  Ellsworth  did  not  dare  to  answer,  for  fear  of 
betrayal. 

He  stepped  to  the  door  and  invited  in  the  Federal  operator,  Mr. 
Brooks. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Ellsworth  to  him,  "I  want  you  to  answer 
Nashville  in  the  most  satisfjictory  manner.  I  shall  listen  to  your 
replies,  and  if  there  is  any  thing  wroni;,  it  will  have  to  be  atoned 
for  by  a  life  during  the  war  in  a  Dixie  prison." 

"All  shall  be  right,  sir,"  responded  the  accommodating  opera- 
tor, glad  to  be  at  his  old  work  again. 

Nashville,  with  suspicions  highly  aroused,  called  to  Gallatin  : 
"  "What  w^as  the  name  of  that  young  lady  you  accompanied-  to 
Major  Foster's  ?"  : 

"Be  careful,"  enjoined  Ellsworth,  leaning  over  the  shoulder  of 
the  operator.     "  Give  a  correct  reply !" 

"I  don't  remember  of  going  to  Major  Foster's  with  any  yourg 
lady,"  was  the  response. 

"  What  about  that  nitric  acid  I  sent  you  the  other  day  V  asked 
Nashville. 

"You  sent  me  no  nitric  acid." 

"Is  that  correct?"  and  Ellsworth  eyed  the  operator  sternly. 

"Correct,  sir," 

Nashville,  yet  suspicious:  "Mr,  Marshall,  the  Superintendent  of 
Eailroads,  is  not  yet  satisfied  that  you  are  not  Morgan's  operator, 


228  BATDS   A^a>   ROMANCE 

and  wishes  you  to  tell  him  who  you  desired  to  take  your  place 
while  you  were  gone  on  leave  of  absence,  how  long  you  wished  to 
be  gone,  and  where  did  you  wish  to  go?" 

Gallatin  responded:  "Tell  Mr.  Marshall  that  I  wished  Mr.  Clay- 
ton to  take  my  place,  while  I  got  a  week's  leave  to  go  to  Cincin- 
nati." 

Nashville  w^as  convinced,  and  soon  there  came  over  the  wirea 
the  following  order: 

'•To  MrPwPHY,  Conductor,  Gallatin: 

"  You  will  run  to  Edgefiel^t  Junction  to  meet  and  pass  trains 
Nos.  4  and  6,  and  pass  them  both  at  that  point.  Answer  how 
you  understand.  B.  Marshall." 

The  answer  was  promptly  returned,  that  the  instructions  would 
be  obeyed. 

Nashville  informed  Ellsworth  that  "trains  Nos.  4  and  6  had  left 
again  at  eleven  fifteen  minutes." 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Nashville  again  called  lusti- 
ly on  Gallatin:  "Trains  Nos.  4  and  6  are  back  again  the  second 
time.  We  have  positive  information  that  the  enemy  is  in  posses- 
sion of  Gallatin.     Where  is  Murphy  ?" 

It  was  unnecessary  to  practise  the  deception  further.  The  cars 
would  not  come. 

At  five  o'clock,  Ellsworth  sent  the  following  to  George  D.  Pren- 
tice: 

"  Gallatin,  Aug.  12,  1862. 
"Geokge  D.  Prentice,  LonsviLLE,  Kt.  : 

"Your  prediction,  in  yesterday's  paper,  regarding  my  where- 
abouts, is  like  most  of  the  items  from  your  pen.  You  had  better 
go  to  Jeflfersonville  to  sleep  to-night. 

"John  H.  Morgan, 

Commanding  Brigade." 

A  lady,  beautiful  and  sprightly,  accompanied  by  Captain  Mc- 
Cann,  and  two  other  ladies,  made  her  appearance  in  the  oflfice,  and 
was  introduced  to  Mr.  Ellsworth. 

"Will  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  send  a  message  to  Prentice  for  mel" 
she  said,  laughing. 

"Assuredly  I  will,  with  pleasure." 

81)6  turned  to  the  desk,  and  hurriedly  wrote  her  dispatch: 


OF   MOKGAX   AlO)   UIS   MEN.  220 

"Gallatin,  Aug.  12,  1862. 
"George  D.  Prentice,  Louisville,  Ky, : 

''  Your  friend.  Colonel  John  II.  Morgan,  and  his  brave  followers, 
are  enjoying  the  hospitalities  of  this  town,  to-day. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  here?  The  colonel  has  seen  your 
$100,000  reward  for  his  head,  and  offers  $100,000  better  for  yours, 
at  short  range. 

"  Wash.  Morgan,  whom  you  published  in  your  paper  some  time 
ago,  when  he  was  in  Knoxville,  accompanies  his  cousin  John,  with 
four  hundred  Indians.     He  seeks  no  scalp  but  yours. 

#  "A  Secesh  Lady." 

Mr.  Brooks,  who  was  now  released  from  his  military  position, 
as  prisoner,  joined -in  the  conversation  of  the  merry  party,  with  as 
much  zest  as  any  one.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  highly  the  whole  day's 
proceedings,  and  even  jested  over  his  morning  fright. 

The  party  repaired  to  the  house  of  the  lady,  where,  with  the 
assembled  fair  of  the  good  town  of  Gallatin,  the  lieroes  of  the  day 
passed  the  evening  with  song  and  dance,  and  the  graphic  recital 
of  thrilling  adventure.  Every  manifestation  of  joy  that  the  citi- 
zens of  Gallatin  could  give  at  their  release  from  Yankee  thraldom, 
was  displayed  by  all  classes. 

Captains  Desha  and  McCann,  and  their  men,  Were  welcomed  to 
the  best  cheer  the  town  could  offer — were  feted  and  toasted — and 
smiled  upon  by  bright  eyes,  until  they  were  made  to  appreciate, 
in  some  degree,  at  least,  the  great  favor  they  had  bestowed  on  the 
grateful  inhabitants. 


230  EAmS   AND   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER  XLT. 

GALLATIN ITS    REVERSES. 

The  great  joy  of  the  good  people  of  Gallatin  at  being  relieved 
from  Federal  domination,  by^lie  brilliant  and  successful  attack  of 
the  Southrons,  under  Captains  Desha  and  McCunn,  was  soon  turn- 
ed to  mourning,  by  the  sudden  reoccupation  of  tlie  town  by  the 
enemy, 

Xashville  was  aroused  when  she  heard  that  Boone  and  his  men 
had  been  seized  upon  by  the  Confederates,  and  the  Yankees  were 
determined  to  be  avenged  for  the  loss,  by  repossessing  Gallatin, 
capturing  the  hated  Morgan  and  his  men,  if  possible  to  do  so,  and, 
in  the  event  of  failure  in  this  object,  to  wreak  vengeance  on  the 
defenceless  inhabitants  of  the  town  and  country. 

Accordingly,  an  Indiana  regiment,  headed  by  one  Colonel  Hef- 
feren,  set  out  from  Jifashville  to  avenge  the  dignity  of  the  Federal 
arms  on  the  audacious  rebels,  who  had  dared  to  molest  them  in 
their  fancied  security. 

Tiie  Federals  proceeded  to  Gallatin,  but  found  no  Confederates 
upon  whom  to  be  revenged.  But  their  insatiable  cruelty  must  be 
gratified,  and  with  that  liendishness  characteristic  of  the  Yankee 
soldier,  they  sought  out  the  aged  and  peaceful  citizens,  and  drag- 
ged them  from  their  homes,  to  incarcerate  them  in  their  wretched 
dungeons. 

From  house  to  house  these  armed  wretches  proceeded,  bursting 
open  doors,  rushing  from  room  to  room,  using  the  most  revolting 
language  to  unprotected  females,  dragging  forth,  with  abuse  and 
cruelty,  old  men  whose  only  crime  was  daring  to  oppose  such 
inhuman  proceedings,  and  a  government  that  would  sanction  and 
support  them. 

Store  doors  were  forced  by  this  lawless  mob,  dressed  in  the 
uniform  of  United  States  soldiers;  the  owners  were  seized  and 
placed  under  guard,  and  all  their  goods  either  appropriated  or 
wantonly  destroyed.  A  squad  of  fifteen  of  these  armed  rutfians, 
with  demoniac  yells  and  imprecations,  rushed  upon  the  Masonic 
Lodge,  drove  in  the  door,  and  with  the  fury  of  madmen,  upset 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  231 

and  broke  cliairs,  table?,  desks,  daslied  the  fragments  about  tlie 
room,  threw  the  Bible  from  the  window,  dragged  forth  the  para- 
phernalia of  the  order,  and  scattered  it  wildly  about  the  street. 

The  astonished  citizens  stood  aghast  in  mute  horror  as  this 
fearful  work  of  destruction  progressed,  not  dai-ing  to  offer  even  a 
word  of  protest  against  the  brutal  outrage.  Private  property 
shared  the  same  fate,  and  those  who  were  known  to  the  despera- 
does as  Southern  men  and  women,  had  to  behold  in  silent  despair 
their  houses  sacked,  their  valuables  destroyed  before  their  eyes,  or 
taken  otF  by  the  despoilers. 

The  work  of  lawless  plunder  ended,  the  unholy  rioters  set  out 
to  return  to  Nashville,  carrying  with  them  forty  of  the  best  citi- 
zens of  the  place. 

They  proceeded  on  foot  as  far  as  Sandersville,  at  which  place 
Colonel  Morgan's  men  had  burnt  the  railroad  bridge,  only  a  few 
days  before. 

They  had  not  advanced  many  miles  on  their  way  before  Colo- 
nel Morgan,  with  twelve  hundred  men,  appeared  in  the  streets  of 
Gallatin.  His  arrival  was  greeted  with  the  joyous  tears  of  the 
grateful  citizens,  who  hailed  him  as  the  deliverer  of  their  hus- 
bands, sons,  and  brothers. 

He  needed  not  to  be  importuned  to  pursue  the  dastardly  foe. 
Gaining  a  few  points  of  information,  he  dashed  out  after  him.  He 
liad  not  gone  fur  before  he  overtook  the  retreating  column,  who, 
instead  of  giving  biittle,  fled  precipitately  in  the  direction  of  Nash- 
ville. 

The  Confederates  pursued  the  fleeing  Indianians,  killing  about 
sixty  and  taking  a  large  number  prisoners. 

On  they  dashed,  as  if  for  dear  life,  the  victorious  troops  driving 
them  everywhere  before  them  with  dreadful  carnage.  At  last, 
the  remnant  of  the  fugitives,  breathless  with  affright,  threw  them- 
fielves  behind  a  triangular  stockade  at  the  junction  of  the  rail- 
roads, and  here  made  a  stand.  The  Confederates  made  a  charge 
upon  the  ranks,  but  it  was  a  strong  position,  and  the  few  Yankees 
sheltered  behind  the  walls  would  not  repay  for  the  trouble,  so  the 
colonel  withdrew  and  retraced  his  way  to  Gallatin,  bearing  with 
Lim  the  released  citizens,  who  had  been  rescued  from  a  doom 
worse  than  death. 

The  women  rushed  into  the  streets,  wild  with  joy,  as  they  saw 
the  conquerors  advance,  bringing  with  them  their  husbands  and 
sons.  They  clasped  their  benefactors  in  their  arnis,  tlKniked  them 
■with  streaming  faces,  and  invoked  the  blessing  of  Heaven  on  them 


232  RAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

in  all  their  andertakings.  Never  was  there  a  more  affecting 
scene,  and  never  before  had  Colonel  Morgan  and  his  men  felt  so 
grateful  for  triumph  over  the  foe. 

Officers  and  men  were  alike  welcomed  into  every  house,  where 
repasts  were  prepared  for  them  with  a  lavishness  that  fully  be- 
8.)()ke  the  gratitude  of  generous  hearts.  The  young  ladies  played 
a:id  sang  for  the  gallant  heroes  who  had  restored  to  them  their 
fathers  and  brothers.  A  late  hour  in  the  night  found  the  festivity 
and  joy  unabated. 

Early  the  next  morning  Colonel  Morgan  was  informed  that  a 
large  Federal  cavalry  force,  led  by  R.  R.  Johnston,  formerly  a 
lawyer, of  Paducah,  Kentucky,  who  had  been  sent  out  for  the 
express  object  of  capturing  him  and  his  command,  was  rapidly 
marching  on  Gallatin. 

With  his  wonted  quickness  Colonel  Morgan  rallied  his  forces, 
and  set  out  on  the  Hartsville  road  to  encounter  his  sanguine  pur- 
suers. 

With  him  were  Major  Duke,  Colonel  St.  Grenfel,  Major  Gano, 
Captains  Desha,  McCann,  Hamilton,  Castleman,  Harrison,  etc.,  all 
of  them  tried  men,  whose  courage  and  daring  were  everywhere 
known  and  acknowledged.  The  force  of  the  enemy  was  reported 
as  very  heavy,  well  armed  and  equipped. 

Il^othing  daunted  by  those  rumors  of  superiority,  the  brave 
Southrons  shouldered  their  guns,  and,  mounting  their  steeds, 
rushed  out  to  the  conflict. 

They  had  proceeded  but  a  mile  when  the  cry  ran  through  the 
ranks,  "The  Yankees!  the  Yankees!" 

Instantly  orders  were  given  to  halt  and  prepare  for  an  engage- 
ment. Colonel  Morgan  formed  his  men  as  rapidly  and  as  well  as 
he  could,  and  opened  upon  the  advancing  foe  a  heavy  volley  of 
musketry.  The  attack  was  furious  ;  the  Yankees  replied  in  a  man- 
ner which  told  their  determination  to  fight. 

Again  and  again,  in  rapid  succession,  were  the  Federal  ranks  as- 
sailed by  a  stunning  shower  of  Minnie  balls  and  bullets,  while  the 
men  advanced  nearer  and  nearer  towards  the  serried  ranks  of  the 
enemy.  The  sharp,  quick  fire  of  the  guns,  mingling  with  the  low 
bass  of  the  trampling  horsemen,  filled  the  air  with  strange,  wild 
sounds. 

'^  They  are  determined  to  give  ns  close  quarters,"  observed  Col. 
Morgan  to  Major  Duke  at  his  side.  '"See,  they  are  advancing 
rapidly  upon  us  !" 

"  But  see,  colonel,"  said  Duke,  "  they  bring  a  flag  of  truce  ;  they 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  233 

will  surrender.  Cowards!"  added  Duke,  scowling,  "  thus  to  yield 
without  a  figiit." 

''  They  surely  will  not  do  that,"  rejoined  Morgan,  keei)ing  liis 
eye  steadily  fixed  upon  the  approaching  squad,  who  hore  down 
upon  them  at  a  pretty  lively  pace,  "  They  would  brand  themselves 
vith  infamy  forever  to  pursue  such  a  course." 

The  tiring  ceased  as  soon  as  tlie  flag  had  been  observed,  and  the 
column,  all  ready  for  a  renewal  of  the  engagement,  stood  awaiting 
the  issue  of  the  parley. 

Colonel  Morgan  received  the  deputation  with  his  usual  dignity 
and  grace. 

The  note  was  presented,  bearing  the  signature  of  the  Federal 
colonel.  It  was  a  request  for  an  armistice  of  several  hours.  John- 
ston stated  that  he  was  surprised ;  hadn't  his  men  together  and 
was  not  prepared  for  battle. 

Colonel  Morgan  read  the  missive. 

"Tell  your  colonel,"  said  he  to  the  Yankee  adjutant,  "that  he 
has  been  pursuing  me  from  point  to  point,  eager  for  a  fight.  I 
am  now  ready,  and  he  can  have  it.  If  he  can  defeat  me,  very 
well." 

The  officer  dashed  back  to  his  colonel  with  the  pithy  reply,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  hostilities  were  resumed. 

The  Confederates,  like  men  in  earnest,  pressed  upon  the  foe, 
sending  at  every  step  a  hail-storm  of  bullets  into  his  irresolute 
ranks.  The  Federals  made  but  a  feeble  reply.  Onward  drove  the 
inspirited  men — onward,  onward  to  glorious  victory. 

Again  appeared  the  truce  flag/  Johnston  had  surrendered  !  Loud 
and  long  rose  the  shout  from  the  joyous  hosts  of  the  victors.  The 
air  was  rent  with  their  wild  acclamations. 

The  Federals  were  surrounded  and  compelled  to  lay  down  their 
arms.  Colonel  Johnston,  with  six  hundred  of  his  men,  were  made 
prisoners.  The  remainder  fled  to  the  Cumberland.  Believing 
themselves  pursued,  they  had  cast  aside  every  thing  that  might  re- 
tard their  flight,  and  actuated  by  that  strongest  law  of  our  nature, 
"self-preservation,"  had  betaken  themselves  to  the  river  by  the 
shortest  available  route,  thinking  if  they  could  but  place  that 
stream  between  them  and  the  pursuing  hosts,  they  had  nothing  to 
fear.  On  reaching  the  bank  of  the  Cumberland,  many  deserted 
their  horses  and  dashed  into  the  stream  to  swim  to  the  opposite 
shore.  They  were  bootless,  hatless,  gunless,  horseless — a  parcel 
of  poor  affrighted  men,  running  away  as  best  they  could,  from  the 
*'  dreaded  Morgan  and  his  dare-devil  crew." 


23-i  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

Finding  themselves  on  the  south  bank  of  the  stream  with  their 
horses  on  the  wrong  side,  unable  to  walk  to  Nashville,  they  fell  to 
work  to  pre-^s  into  service  every  horse,  mule,  and  vehicle  they 
could  find.  And  it  was  a  rich,  rare  spectacle  to  see  the  motWy 
cavalcade  under  whip  and  spur,  bound  in  hot  liaste  for  that  city 
of  safety. 

"  What's  the  matter  friends  ?"  asked  a  traveller,  as  he  encoun- 
tered them  outside  of  Lebanon,  driving  on  as  fast  as  circumstances 
would  allow  towards  Nashville. 

"Done  for — done  for,"  was  the  response  of  a  little  red-haired 
man,  who  sat  astride  a  mule,  on  which  there  was  not  even  so  much 
as  a  blanket;  "Morgan  has  cut  us  all  to  pieces,  taken  our  colonel 
and  all  his  men,  and  we  only  are  left  to  tell  the  tale." 

*' Too  bad,  my  friend !  Has  Morgan  whipped  us  again?  But 
where  did  this  occur?"  interrogated  the  delighted  Southerner,  pre- 
serving a  grave  mien  and  solemn  tone. 

"At  Gallatin!"  responded  half  a  dozen  voices,  as  if  eager  to 
proclaim  their  defeat. 

"  ^yho  commanded  you,  and  how  many  strong?" 

"  We  were  under  Colonel  Johnston,  and  numbered  eleven  hun- 
dred." 

"And  did  that  desperado  Morgan  whip  you  with  his  handful  of 
ragamuffins  ?" 

"  Oh!  he  had  thousands — the  earth  was  perfectly  covered  with 
his  men.  He  did  whip  us,  and  I  believe  he  can  do  it  again.  These 
Secesh  seem  to  have  the  devil  in  them.  They  fight  like  the  old 
scratch  himself!" 

"Bad — bad!"  exclaimed  the  traveller.  "Something  must  be 
done  to  put  this  fellow  Morgan  out  of  the  way." 

"Can't  catch  him  ;  he's  here,  and  there,  and  everywhere.  We 
were  after  him  for  days,  and  then  met  him  where  we  didn't  expect 
to  find  him.     You  can't  head  him  ;  it's  no  use  trying  !" 

The  traveller  bowed  and  rode  on.  As  he  passed  along  the  Cf)l- 
umn,  he  asked  several  more  the  same  question.  All  gave  a  like 
response.  "Morgan  had  used  them  up !" 

Colonel  Morgan  again  returned  in  triumph  to  Gallatin,  bearing 
with  him  his  long  line  of  prisoners.  The  remainder  of  the  day 
was  occupied  in  giving  them  paroles.  The  next  day  Morgan 
and  his  men,  followed  by  the  blessings  and  prayers  of  the  whole 
population  of  the  little  town,  left  Gallatin  for  earnest  work  else- 
where. 

But  a  few  weeks  elapsed,  before  the  Yankees  were  again  the 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  235 

masters  of  the  place,  exceeding,  if  possible,  tlieir  former  cruelty 
and  coarseness. 

Tims,  in  the  short  space  of  a  few  weeks,  this  little  town,  with 
its  population  of  true  Southern  hearts,  was  thrice  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  diabolical  foe — twice  relieved  by  the  most  opportune 
presence  of  Colonel  Morgan  and  his  men.  Such  are  the  chances 
of  war. 


236  EATDS   AXD  P.OMANCE 


CHAPTER  XLn. 

NEWS    FROM    HOME. 

After  the  brilliant  victory  at  Gallatin,  the  Confederates  retired 
to  their  headquarters  near  Hartsviile,  to  wait  another  favorable  op- 
portunity to  pounce  upon  the  Yankees.  The  defeat  of  Johnston 
had  served  to  greatly  heighten  their  fear  of  the  invincible  and 
ubiquitous  Morgan,  teaching  them  an  increased  degree  of  caution, 
■which  they  evidenced  by  prudently  keeping  close  to  their  base  of 
operations.  Xow  and  then,  an  ill-omened  squad,  venturing  out 
too  far,  was  caught  up  by  the  vigilant  Southrons  and  placed  be- 
yond the  pale  of  further  mischief. 

It  was  a  time  of  activity  with  the  Confederate  army  in  Tennes- 
see. Bragg  was  busily  engaged  in  preparations  to  move  into  Ken- 
tucky. Buell,  understanding  his  designs,  and  desiring  to  thwart 
them,  was  slowly  falling  back  from  Deckherd.  General  Kirby 
Smith  was  advancing  into  Kentucky  through  Pound  Gap,  with  an 
army  destined  to  occupy  the  central  portion  of  the  State,  and  there 
act  in  conjunction  with  General  Bragg,  whose  proposed  route  was 
through  Glasgow,  Mumfordsville,  and  Bardstown. 

Colonel  Morgan,  with  a  portion  of  his  force,  dashed  once  more 
into  Glasgow,  arrested  th^provost-marshal  of  the  place,  and  issued 
a  proclamation,  in  which  he  told  Union  men  of  the  punishment 
with  which  they  were  to  be  visited  for  their  cruel  treatment  to  his 
friends. 

Then  returning  into  Tennessee,  he  consummated  his  arrange- 
ments to  accompany,  Bragg  on  his  proposed  ex'pedition. 

'*  We  are  going  into  Kentucky  again,  boys,"  said  Lawrence,  as 
the  mess  sat  around  the  table  one  morning  soon  after  the  return 
from  Glasgow,  "  and  we  go  this  time  to  stay." 

"  Three  cheers  for  old  Kentucky  I"  huzzahed  a  half  dozen  voices. 
"  Three  cheers  for  the  noble  old  State ;  may  we  win  her  from  Yan- 
kee rule!" 

"  Come,  Charley,  what  are  you  doing  there,  moping  in  that  cor- 
ner?" said  young  Brent  to  our  hero,  as  he  lay  stretched  out  on  his 
straw  pallet,  on  one  side  of  the  tenr.    "  Come,  don't  you  see  break- 


OF   MOKGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  237 

fast  is  ready?  uiid  didn't  you  hear  tliat  glorious  news?  We  are 
going  back  to  old  Kentucky  to  stay.  Why,  Charley,  I  should 
think  you  would  jump  over  the  table  at  that  glorious  announce- 
ment!" 

*'I  am  delighted,  Brent,  at  the  news,  but  my  head  aches  so  mis- 
erably, I  don't  believe  I  could  sit  up.  John,  are  you  sure  this  is 
true?     "Where  did  you  get  your  information?" 

"From  headquarters,  Charley.  It's  as  true  as  the  Bible,  and  no 
mistake.  Major  Duke  told  Cal.  Morgan,  and  I  had  it  from  Cal. 
himself  just  a  few  minutes  ago.  Come,  Charley,  get  up,  boy,  and 
drink  this  cup  of  cotfee.  It's  some  of  my  own  make,  and  it  is 
most  excellent — isn't  it,  boys?" 

"First-rate!  first-t-ate,  John!"  answered  all  present.  "Good 
enough  to  make  a  sick  man  well." 

"  Here,  Charley,  drink  this,"  said  Brent,  as  he  moved  from  the 
tabie  to  the  side  of  the  straw  pallet  with  a  tin  cup  of  smoking  cof- 
fee in  his  hand.  "  Drink  it,  and  if  it  doesn't  cure  your  head  in  ten 
minutes,  I  am  no  doctor." 

"Charley  raised  himself  up  on  his  elbow,  and  taking  the  cup 
from  the  soldier's  hand,  sipped  a  few  drops,  and  handed  it  back  to 
his  friend. 

"Pshaw,  Charley,  you  haven't  taken  any.  You  must  drink  it 
all.  Two  sips  won't  cure  you!  I  do  believe,  boys,"  said  Brent, 
turning  to  the  mess,  "that  Charley  has  the  heartache!  Have  you 
been  hearing  any  bad  news  from  Kentucky  lately  ?  Come,  make 
a  good  confession.  Here,  let  me  feel  your  pulse.  Pshaw!  just  as 
slow  and  steady  as  an  old  clock.  Not  a  bit  of  fever.  Now  put 
out  your  tongue,  Charley.  I  must  examine  you  thoroughly,  and 
find  out  your  symptoms,  before  I  can  prescribe." 

Charley,  smiling,  obeyed  the  bidding,  and  turning  his  face  full 
to  the  light,  thrust  out  his  tongue  for  Brent's  inspection. 

"  Why,  your  tongue  is  a  little  coated,  old  fellow— but  not  much. 
A  good  cup  of  cofiee,  and  you  will  be  well  by  dinner.  No  time  to 
get  sick  now;  we  maybe  off  to  Kentucky  in  less  than  twelve 
hours.     When  did  you  say  we  were  to  set  out,  John?" 

"In  a  few  days,  less  than  a  week,  I  understand.  But  it  may  be 
to-morrow.     You  know  Colonel  Morgan  gives  us  but  short  notice." 

"  Here,  Charley,  you  nmst  indeed  take  this  coffee, — nothing  like 
it  for  headache  and  heartache;  indeed,  it  will  cure  all  kinds  of 
aches.  Drink  it  down,  and  think  of  the  Kentucky  girls,  and,  my 
word  for  it,  you  will  be  well  in  two  hours." 

"No  doubt  of  it,  Charley,"  said  John. 


238  EAIDS   AND   KOMANCE 

"  But,  here,"  said  Brent,  "  let  me  pour  you  another  cup. 
That's  cold." 

''Don't  put  any  sugar  in  it,  John;  t  am  sick  at  my  stomach, 
and  can't  bear  any  thing  sweet." 

The  fresh  coffee  was  handed,  and  Charley  drank  it  down,  wear- 
ing all  tlie  while  a  martyr  look. 

"Now,  be  still  a  little  while,"  said  young  Brent,  feeling  his 
pulse  a  second  time  with  mock  gravity,  "and  by  dinner  you  may 
be  up  and  preparing  for  your  trip  to  Louisville." 

Breakfast  being  over,  young  Brent  took  it  upon  himself  to 
clear  away  the  table  and  arrange  things  generally.  He  could  do 
this,  he  said,  and  at  tlie  same  time  attend  to  his  patient.  The 
other  boys  went  out  to  learn  the  news  of  the  day. 

They  had  not  been  gone  more  than  half  an  hour,  before  John 
rushed  back  to  the  tent,  his  countenance  bright  with  joy,  exclaim- 
ing: "News  from  home,  Charley — a  letter,  a  letter!  Come,  my 
boy,  this  will  make  you  well,  and  no  mistake." 

Young  Brent,  who  sat  beside  the  open  tent,  motioned  to  him 
to  be  silent. 

"What's  the  matter.  Brent?"  inquired  John,  anxiously,  as  he 
reached  his  side  and  saw  his  grave  expression  of  countenance. 

"  Be  still — Charley  is  asleep,  and  is  really  quite  sick." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not.  Brent — nothing  more  than  a  nervous  head- 
ache, I  judge.  You  know  he  has  done  a  great  deal  of  hard  work 
recently.  No  one  fought  more  bravely  at  Gallatin  than  did  he, 
and  he  has  been  kept  quite  busy  since  we  came  into  camp." 

"It  may  pass  oif  without  serious  consequences,  but  I  feel  anx- 
ious.    He  has  a  very  high  fever.     Here,  look  how  red  his  face  is, 
and  he  complains  of  severe  pain  in  his  side." 
.    John  approached  the  bedside,  and  stooped  down  to  look  at  his 
friend. 

The  sleeper's  lips  moved — "Water,  water!"  he  muttered. 

"  What  will  you  have,  Charley?"  asked  John,  bending  tenderly 
over  him,  and  speaking  as  softly  as  a  woman. 

The  sound  of  his  voice  aroused  the  sleeper,  who,  starting, 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  wildly  up. 

'•What  did  you  sa}',  Charley?"  repeated  John.  "Is  there  any 
thing  you  want  ?" 

"1  didn't  say  any  thing,  did  I?  I  must  have  been  dreaming. 
But  I  am  intolerably  thirsty.  Can  I  have  some  water,  Doctor 
Brent?"  he  said,  casting  a  mischievous  glance  into  that  peraon- 


OF   MORGAX   AND    HIS   MEN.  239 

Young  Brent  hastened  to  procure  him  a  cup  of  fresh  water. 
"Charley,  wliat  for  a  letter  from  old  Kentucky?"  asked  John, 
qnizzicallv. 

'•Oil,  have  you  a  letter,  John?"  And  Charley  pprang  up  in 
bed  and  g.ized  beseechingly  on  his  friend.  '^  Is  it  from  Louisville  ? 
But  you  havt-n't  got  one,  John,"  he  added,  despoudingly.  "Why 
did  you  tantalize  me  S(.?"  and  he  fell  back  upon  his  pallet  with  a 
sigh.  "Oh,  my  head!"  he  exclaimed,  a  moment  after,  pressing 
his  hands  on  his  temples.     "  It  .-loiies  to  bursting." 

''I  am  sorry  I  excited  vow  sc,  Charley;  but  here  is  a  letter  for 
you,  and  it  is  from  Louisville,  too," 

Charley  stretched  forth  his  hand  eagerly,  and  grasped  the  ex- 
tended missive. 

"From  Lu— my  dear,  dear  sister.  But  how  did  you  get  it, 
John?" 

"A  man  came  through  direct  from  Louisville— young  Mayner. 
He  brought  a  large  lot  of  letters  for  our  men." 

"Did  you  get  one  from  home,  John?"  inquired  Charley,  most 
earnestly. 

"  Yes ;  from  Mary— a  sweet,  loving  letter  as  ever  a  brother  re- 
ceived. You  shall  read  it,  Charley,  when  you  get  through  with 
yours.  You  will  see  Mary  has  not  forgotten  you.  She  mentions 
your  name  in  every  line.  And  she  says,  too,  as  you  will  see,  that 
she  has  written  you  a  long  letter  to  be  sent  out  with  this.  Per- 
haps it  has  not  yet  been  distributed." 

"  Where  is  Mayner  now,  John?  Do  tell  him  to  come  here  im- 
mediately, if  you  please." 

"  He  is  somewhere  in  camp.  I  will  go  directly  and  bring  him 
here.     But  let's  read  our  letters  first." 

"  Here  is  a  good,  cool  drink  of  water,  Charley ;  I  ran  all  the 
way  from  the  spring,"  and  Brent  put  the  cup  to  his  fevered  lips. 
He  swallowed  tlie  draught  eagerly. 
"  I  must  bathe  your  head,  Charley." 

"  Oh,  wait.  Brent,  until  I  read  my  letter  from  home,"  and  Char- 
lev  hastily  tore  off  the  envelope.  As  he  opened  the  letter,  a  neat- 
ly folded  sheet  of  note  paper,  closely  written,  fell  out.  He  toot  it 
up  and  examined  the  signature.  As  his  eyes  rested  upon  it  his 
face  flushed  crimson. 

"  Ah,  Cliarley  will  have  no  further  need  of  my  services  now, 
John.  That  billet-doux  will  prove  a  sovereign  panacea.  Head- 
ache and  heartache  will  now  be  cured.  I'll  leave  you  to  your 
happiness,  my  most  happy  patient,  and  go  and  see  if  I  can't  hear 


2i0  EALDS    AND    ROMANCE 

of  a  letter  for  myself.  Surely  some  friend  has  remembered 
me." 

Brent  stepped  outside  the  tent,  leaving  Charley  to  peruse  his 
sheet  uninterrupted  by  his  presence. 

John  sat  down  beside  the  straw  pallet,  and  the  two  read  and 
re-read  their  letters,  and  talked  of  the  dear  friends  at  home,  whom 
they  hoped  so  soon  to  see,  until  Charley  forgot  his  headache  in 
the  joy  of  glad  thoughts  and  bright  anticipations. 

''How  pleasant  it  would  be,  John,  if  we  could  but  get  to  Louis- 
ville in  time  for  Lu's  marriage!  It  is  strange  Spalding  told  me 
nothing  of  this,  when  we  met  at  Lebanon  ;  but  then  I  left  -^o  ab- 
ruptly, and  doubtless  he  had  deferred  it  till  morning.  And  Mary, 
too,  she  ought  to  have  known  of  it." 

"She  told  me,  Charley,  that  for  some  weeks  previous  to  your 
sister's  visit  to  Cincinnati — you  know  Miss  Lu  was  there  while 
we  were  in  Kentucky — they  had  met  only  on  the  street.  Lu  fur 
some  reason  had  avoided  her.  May  not  this  account  for  her  want 
of  information?" 

With  sparkling  eyes  and  throbbing  brain,  Charley  read  over  and 
over  the  letters.  Great  big  tears  gathered  in  his  eyes  and  rolled 
down  his  burning  cheeks,  as  he  dwelt  on  the  sweet  words  of  love 
from  her  who  was  his  heart's  idol. 

''  All  well,  Charley  ?"  asked  John,  re-entering,  after  an  absence 
of  several  minutes. 

"Very  well,"  was  the  reply,  while  a  happy  smile  lighted  up  the 
fevered  face  of  the  speaker. 

"  Yes,  that's  it.  How  sad  for  us  all  that  that  miserably  false 
report  should  obtain  currency  !  You  know  to  what  I  allude,  John  ? 
It  caused  me  such  anguish  as  I  could  not  describe,  and  produced 
that  temporary  estrangement  between  Mary  and  Lu — these  two, 
who  have  been  as  sisters  from  their  childhood." 

"  Bad,  bad — too  bad.  But  it's  all  passed  now,  Charley,  my  boy, 
and  we  won't  torment  ourselves  over  it  longer.  You  see,  the  two 
girls  are  reconciled,  and  I  should  think  that  you  and  Mary  were 
friends  again.  And  who  knows,  Charley,  but  we  may  yet  be  able 
to  accept  Miss  Lu's  invitation?  Do  you  not  know,  my  boy,  that 
we  are  all  going  into  Kentucky  soon?  I  heard  it  just  before  I 
came  to  you  ;  but,  in  our  joy  over  the  letters,  forgot  to  mention  it. 
Yes,  indeed,  it's  so.  We  go  to  stay  this  time,  and,  if  I  mistake 
not,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  attending  more  than  one  wed- 
ding," and  John  looked  so  significantly  at  his  friend,  that  Charley, 
in  spite  of  himself,  blushed  red,  and  betrayed  deep  embarrassment. 


OF   MO  KG  AN    AND    HIS   MEN.  241 

''  Going  into  Kentucky  !  when,  John  ?"  and  with  tlie  excitement 
of  the  thought,  he  sprang  from  liis  straw  pallet,  on  which  he  had 
been  silting  during  the  conversation,  and  placed  himself  on  a  sad- 
dle that  stood  nearby.  "Can  it  be  possible,  John,  that  this  \s 
true?  Oil,  what  joy!  But,  then,"  and,  sighing,  he  leaned  his 
aciiing  head  on  ids  hand,  ''J  may  not  be  well  enough  to  go." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,  Charley.  Why  are  you  so  despondent?  All 
you  need  is  a  little  rest.  You  have  been  overtaxed  of  late;  in- 
deed, I  don't  think  you  have  gotten  over  your  trip  to  Kentucky. 
Come,  now,  you  must  lie  down  and  be  still;  keep  quiet,  and  you 
will  soon  be  better.  I'll  go  now  and  see  if  I  can  learn  any  thing 
respecting  our  movement." 

Charley  threw  himself  on  his  low  bed,  in  accordance  with  his 
friend'8  desire.  But  he  could  not  rest.  He  endeavored  to  call  in 
his  thoughts  and  compose  himself  to  sleep  ;  but  the  endeavor  was 
a  futile  one — his  mind  would  go  out  to  live  in  the  future. 

11 


242  EAIDS    AND   E03IANCE 


CHAPTER  XLin. 

DISAPPOINTMENT.  • 

*'When  do  we  set  out  for  Kentucky,  Irving?"  asked  young 
Gray,  a  member  of  Charley's  mess,  as  with  a  group  of  boys  he 
stood  under  the  wide-spread  branches  of  a  sycamore-tree,  eagerly 
listening  to  Irving's  recital  of  the  joy  and  glory  that  awaited  the 
command,  when,  as  victors,  they  should  repossess  the  soil  wrench- 
ed from  them  by  the  oppressive  foe. 

"Very  soon,  I  understand.  Preparations  are  now  being  made 
for  the  trip.  Hawkins,  here,  thinks  it  will  not  be  more  than  a 
week." 

"And  it  may  be  earlier  than  that,  Irving.  Major  Duke  told  me 
this  morning  that  we  must  hold  ourselves  in  readiness  to  leave  at 
any  moment  after  to-day.  I  should  not  be  the  least  astonished  if 
we  receive  orders  in  less  than  an  hour  to  set  out  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

"What  is  that,  Hawkins?"  asked  Lawrence,  as  he  stepped  up  to 
the  side  of  the  speaker.  "  Is  it  certain  we  are  going  into  Ken- 
tucky ?",- 

"No  doubt  of  it,  sir.  "VTe  are  to  accompany  Bragg's  army; 
that  is,  we  are  to  move  simultaneously  with  them." 

"And  when  will  this  be?" 

"We  will  leave  this  point  very  soon  ;  perhaps  in  less  than  twen- 
ty-four hours.  There  may  be  some  work  for  us  to  do  before  we^ 
are  ready  for  invasion." 

The  old  woods  rang  with  loud  acclaim,  when  the  boys  became 
assured  that  the  rumor  which  had  filled  them  with  such  anxious 
expectations,  was  really  true. 

To  Kentucky  hearts,  Kentucky  is  still  dear.  Her  sons  feel  deep- 
ly the  blighting  disgrace  under  which  she  now  rests,  but  they  love 
her  still;  and  with  pity  for  what  she  is,  and  hope  for  what  she 
yet  may  be,  they  stand  ready  to  struggle,  to  fight,  to  pour  out 
their  best  blood,  to  vindicate  her  rights  and  break  the  base,  igno- 
ble shackles  that  now  bind  her  to  the  most  disgraced,  ignominious 
despotism  the  world  has  known  for  ages. 


OF   Moi:GAN    AND    lilS   MEN.  2i3 

Noon  came.  Charley  was  no  better.  His  fever  had  increa.sed, 
and  with  it  the  pain  in  his  head.  The  physician  was  sent  for,  but 
he  had  rode  oft'  to  a  neighboring  farm-house,  where  one  of  the 
men  lay  ill  with  fever.  Just  at  night  Dr.  Lapsley  returned  to 
camp.     He  was  immediately  called  in  to  see  Charley. 

After  thoruuglily  examining  his  symptoms,  he  prescribed  medi- 
cine to  be  taken  at  intervals  of  four  hours  through  the  entire 
night. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  case,  doctor?"  inquired  Charley  of 
him,  most  anxiously,  as  the  physician  sat  holding  his  pulse.  "  I 
will  be  well  enough  to  go  to  Kentucky,  won't  I?" 

''Oh,  I  hope  so,  sir,"  responded  the  doctor,  most  encouragingly. 
"Your  fever  is  pretty  high  at  present.  But  I  think  a  night's  rest 
and  the  medicine  I  have  left  will  greatly  restore  you.  Who  will 
take  it  upon  himself  to  administer  these  powders,  gentlemen? 
They  must  be  given  regularly." 

*-I,"  said  John,  promptly  ;  "just  leave  them  with  me,  sir." 

"You  understand  directions?" 

John  bowed  assent. 

Next  morning  found  our  young  friend  much  better.  He  had 
slept  well  through  the  night,  and  the  medicine  had  produced  a 
most  happy  efiect  His  head  was  measurably  relieved,  the  pain 
from  his  side  gone,  and  his  fever  quite  abated. 

He  spoke  most  hopefully  of  Kentucky,  and,  with  the  others  of 
his  mess,  longed  for  the  moment  of  departure  to  come. 

The  doctor  called  early,  pronounced  him  better,  but  advised 
quiet  through  the  day. 

At  noon,  it  was  announced  that  the  whole  command  must  hold 
itself  ready  to  leave  the  day  after  the  morrow, 

Charley  joyously  set  about  preparations  for  the  trip.  When 
.evening  came,  he  was  weary  and  exhausted,  and  his  fever  quite 
burning.  But  he  was  determined  to  brave  it  out,  and  did  not 
mention  it  to  any  one.  He  spent  a  restless,  wakeful  night,  and 
the  next  morning  found  him  unable  to  rise  from  his  bed. 

Dr.  Lapsley  was  again  called  in.  He  examined  him  and  pro- 
nounced him  worse. 

"Oh,  can't  I  go,  doctor?"  asked  Charley,  in  a  most  pleading 
voice. 

The  doctor  hesitated  to  answer.  "  I  must  be  candid  with  you, 
Charley,"  he  said,  after  some  delay.  "  I  think  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble.    I  fear  you  may  have  a  serious  attack  of  fever." 

Charley  turned  himself  on  his  low  bed,  and  burst  into  tears. 


24^  RAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 

Brave,  daring  soldier  as  he  was,  he  could  not  refrain  from  this  ex- 
pression of  his  sore  disappointment.  The  physician  left  directions 
and  hastened  away. 

"Brent,"  and  Charley  turned  his  face  imploringly  up  to  that  of 
his  faithful  friend  beside  him,  "  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you. 
Will  you  write  me  a  letter  to-day,  and  take  it  witli  you  to  Ken- 
tucky ?  I  feel  I  shall  not  go.  I  trust  you  as  a  friend.  I  know 
you  will  not  betray  me." 

''Yes,  Charley,  I  will  do  any  thing  I  can  for  yon." 

"  Here,  sit  down  beside  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  all." 

The  young  soldier  did  as  he  was  requested,  and  Charley  told 
him  the  story  of  his  love. 

"I  confide  my  secret  to  you,  Brent,  as  I  would  to  a  brother.  I 
know  you  will  not  deceive  me.  Now  get  the  paper,  and  let  me 
tell  you  what  to  write." 

Brent  wiped  tlie  tears  from  his  face,  and  obeying  Charley's 
directions,  got  paper,  pen,  and  ink. 

The  letter,  full  of  love  and  devotion,  was  penned. 

"  Tell  my  friends,  Brent,  that  if  I  live  I  will  follow  the  army 
into  Kentucky  as  soon  as  I  am  able." 

Dr.  Lapsley  looked  in  about  noon,  to  order  Charley  to  be  moved 
to  a  neighboring  house.  He  had  been  out  and  secured  a  place  for 
him.  %- 

The  ambulance  was  provided,  and  stood  ready  to  carry  him  to 
his  new  home.  One  by  one  his  friends  called  to  bid  him  good- 
by.  It  yfas  an  affecting  scene  to  see  those  brave  men,  so  unused 
to  weep,  wipe  away  the  tears  from  their  sun-burned  faces,  as  one 
after  another  took  leave  of  their  sick  comrade. 

''I  will  stay  with  you,  Charley,"  said  John.  "I  feel  it  my 
duty.     I  cannot  leave  you  in  this  condition." 

"Oh!  no,  John,  I  cannot  ask  it  of  you.  The  doctor  informs 
me  that  the  people  where  I  am  going  have  promised  to  nurse  me, 
and  he  himself  will  board  in  the  same  family.  No,  no,  go  on,  and 
may  you  be  permitted  to  reach  Louisville  and  see  again  all  our 
dear  friends  there." 

John  and  Brent  accompanied  Charley,  and  saw  him  most  com- 
fortably situated  at  farmer  Johnson's. 

"Tell  my  friends  all  you  know  I  would  say,  boys;  I  am  too 
weak  to  talk  now,"  said  Charley  to  them,  as  they  stood  over  him 
to  bid  him  farewell. 

The  boys  shook  his  hand  affectionately,  wishing  him  a  speedy 
recovery ;  and  dashing  away  their  tears  they  hastened  off  to  camp. 


OF  MORGAN  AND   HIS  MEN.  245 


CHAPTER  XLIY. 

•  THE    MARRIAGE. 

The  evening  came  gloriously  down  over  the  earth.  Tlie  day 
had  been  one  of  those  soft,  mellow  days  of  early  autumn,  when  the 
Spirit  of  Beauty,  descending  from  her  empyrean  abode  walks  the 
earth  in  silent  majesty,  scattering  from  her  celestial  train  enchant- 
ing loveliness  to  gladden  the  soul,  permeating  it  with  heavenly  in- 
spirations and  linking  it  in  hope  to  the  upper  world,  whose  air  is 
beauty  and  whose  soul  is  infinite  love.  There  is  an  intellectuality 
in  the  autumn  which  belongs  to  no  other  season  of  the  year — a 
voice  which  speaks  to  man  of  the  higher  destiny  that  awaits  him 
where,  unclothed  of  the  materiality  that  now  fetters  his  thoughts 
and  blinds  his  vision,  he  shall  rise  to  the  immortality  of  the  just, 
and  drink  of  the  living  fountain  of  knowledge  and  goodness  that 
flows  from  the  throne  of  the  Infinite. 

Dressed^'  the  altar,  the  young  girl  stood  amid  her  bridemaids 
the  very  personification  of  beauty.  The  natural  grace  and  ele- 
gance of  her  form  were  charmingly  manifested  by  the  dress  of  rich 
white  silk,  with  its  point-lace  flounces.  A  berthe  of  the  same  ma- 
terial fell  from  the  tapering  shoulders  over  the  full  bust.  No  or- 
nament, save  the  simple  wreath  of  orange  bloom  which  bound  the 
bridal  veil,  decorated  her  person. 

On  the  stand  beside  her,  in  its  soft  case  of  white  satin,  lay  a  full 
and  handsome  set  of  pearls — the  gift  of  her  aflSanced,  Mr.  Spald- 
ing. Lu  R.  felt  tempted  to  wear  these  superb  jewels  for  his  sake ; 
"  But  not  to-night,"  she  said  in  reply  to  Mary  Lawrence's  earnest 
request  to  be  permitted  to  clasp  them  about  her  neck  and  arms. 
"  Not  to-night^  Mary  dear;  you  know  my  fancy  :  no  jewelry  for  a 
young  bride.  I  feel  he  will  not  disapprove  my  taste.  Nor  do  you, 
Mary  ? — come,  tell  me  truly.  Do  you  not  think  it  more  befitting 
to  dispense  with  jewels  on  such  an  occasion." 

"  Yes,  Lu  ;  but  these  are  so  handsome !" 

"And  Mr.  Spalding's  gift,"  interposed  Molly  Brent,  another  at- 
tendant. 

"I'm  sure  they  would  be  so  becoming,  Ln.     You  would  look 


24f>  RAIDS    AND    KOMANCK 

like  one  of  the  princesses  of  Oriental  story — so  majestic,  so  elegant. 
I  could  almost  wish  you  would  wear  them,"  added  Evangeline  Le- 
noir— a  beautiful  girl  of  French  descent,  who,  in  early  life,  had 
been  left  an  orphan  in  charge  of  an  uncle,  a  man  of  wealth  and 
position.  "Just  let  me  try  them  on  you,  Lu.  There,  see  how 
beautiful!  Oh!  are  they  not  exquisite — perfect?  But  I  see  you 
•would  rather  not  wear  them  to-night ;  so  I'll  unclasp  them  and  lay 
them  gently  back  in  their  soft  bed." 

"  When  will  you  icear  them^  Lu  ?  I  am  almost  dying  to  see 
them  on  you !"  exclaimed  Dolly  Quitman,  as  she  gazed  on  the 
beautiful  ornaments.  "  Oh,  how  superb  they  are!  I  never  saw 
any  thing  more  magnificent.  But  I  agree  with  you,  Lu,  in  your 
taste;  I  am  determined  when  I  marry  not  to  wear  ornaments,  even 
if  they  are  diamonds  themselves." 

"  ifow  the  queen,  and  now  the  gentle  girl-bride,"  said  Evange- 
line, as  she  undid  the  clasps  and  placed  the  ornaments  back  in  the 
ecrin,  beside  which  lay  two  other  sets — one  of  amethyst  and  pearls, 
the  other  a  chaste  turquoise. 

And  there  she  stood,  the  "  girl-bride,"  as  beautiful  as  a  poet's 
dream.  No  ornament  needed  she  to  enhance  her  loveliness.  Her 
black  hair  parted  over  her  forehead,  swept  back  from  the  full  white 
temples  over  the  delicate  ear,  and  was  gathered  into  a  large  roll 
behind,  confined  by  a  comb  of  consummate  workmanftp,  and  her 
face  was  partly  shaded  by  the  gossamer  veil  that  fell  sweeping  like 
fancy  frost-work  over  the  chiselled  shoulders  and  full  bust  until  it 
reached  the  floor. 

"  And  there  were  roses  on  her  cheeks 
That  came  and  went  like  living  things." 

And  her  lustrous  dark  eyes  beamed  bright  with  the  hope  and 
joy  of  her  swelling  bosom. 

Below  in  the  large,  elegant  parlors,  numerous  guests  were  as- 
sembled, awaiting  in  breathless  expectation  the  appearance' of  the 
bride  and  bridegroom — for  it  is  now  the  hour  of  ten. 

A  moment  more  and  the  throng  from  the  door  falls  back — a  wfiy 
is  open — and  the  attendants  pass  in  and  form  themselves  on  the 
floor. 

Scarcely  a  moment  for  a  glance  at  these  four  lovely  creatures, 
all  in  virgin  white,  and  their  handsome  escorts,  before  the  manly 
form  of  the  bridegroom,  bearing  on  his  arm  his  gentle,  blushing 
bride,  enters  and  fixes  the  gaze  of  all  beholders.  The  minister  ap- 
proaches, and  standing  before  them,  in  a  solemn  and  impressive 
ceremony  unites  for  life  the  destiny  of  these  two  loving  hearts. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  247 

The  prayer  is  ended  and  congratulations  and  kisses  are  showered 
on  tlie  happy  pair,  whose  present  is  perfect  happiness,  and  whose 
future  now  wears  only  the  hue  of  the  rose-tint. 

Ah  !  well  it  is  that  at  such  moments  one  cannot  look  with  un- 
clouded vision  adown  tlie  way  of  life.  For  there  must  we  behold 
the  grief — the  disappointment — the  anguish — the  parting — the  pall 
— the  bier — the  narrow  house  which  all  must  jneet,  and  our  hearts, 
aweary  with  the  contemplation,  would  sit  down  in  silence  and  in 
gloom,  heeding  not  the  present  good.  What  wisdom,  then,  that 
the  veil  of  uncertainty  is  thrown  before  our  eyes  to  shut  out  the 
ill  that  soon  must  come ! 

It  was  a  joyous  company.  Ease  and  genuine  hospitality  char- 
acterized every  movement  of  the  kind  host  and  hostess;  and  that 
freedom  from  restraint  and  mutual  interchange  of  thought  and 
feelings,  which  always  distinguish  wedding  parties  from  all  others, 
prevailed  among  the  guests.  There  was  but  one  cloud  that  threw 
its  shadow  over  the  bright  and  gladsome  scene — it  was  the  thought 
of  the  far-away  loved  ones. 

Many  present  had  friends  in  the  Southern  army.  Soon  they 
must  be  exposed  to  the  shock  of  battle;  for  it  was  fully  known 
that  General  Bragg  had  taken  up  his  march  into  Kentucky ;  and 
the  husbands,  and  brothers,  and  sons  who  accompanied  him,  with 
eyes  fixed  so  strainingly  on  the  old  homes,  and  hearts  bent  so 
yearningly  towards  the  loved  ones  there,  might  never  again  sit  by 
the  hearth-stone,  or  hold  sweet  converse  with  the  cherished  friends 
of  yore.  Ah,  no  !  but  it  might  be  that  they  would  fall  in  the 
fierce  conflict,  and  insatiate  Death  batten  on  their  prostrate  forms ; 
and  amid  the  merry  laugh  and  joyous  conversation  the  heart 
would  stand  still  at  the  dread  picture  which  the  imagination  called 
up. 

The  evening  passed  pleasantly:  The  entertainment  throughout 
was  marked  by  the  finest  taste  and  the  utmost  liberality.  The 
table  combined  elegant  profusion  and  most  exquisite  grace.  The 
wines  were  of  the  finest  flavor,  the  confections  of  the  most  choice 
kinds  :  while  the  polite  and  agreeable  manner  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E., 
served  to  heighten  the  pleasure  of  the  whole. 

On  the  following  morning,  attended  by  numerous  friends  from 
the  city,  they  proceeded  to  Lebanon,  where  several  days  were  to 
be  passed  in  festive  enjoyments.  Mary  Lawrence  was  bonneted, 
all  ready  to  take  her  seat  in  the  carriage  which  was  to  convey  the 
bride  and  groom  to  the  railroad  depot,  when  a  note  came  sum- 
moning her  to  her  mother's  bedside. 


248  BAIDS    AND   EOMANCE 


CHAPTER   XLY. 

PARTING    OF    THE    FRIENDS. 

It  was  the  early  morning.  The  first  rays  of  the  sun,  struggling 
through  the  thin  clouds  that  lay  lazily  floating  in  the  east,  threw 
a  soft,  uncertain  hght  over  the  earth,  which  was  but  just  awaken- 
ing from  its  deep  repose,  and  early  morning  birds,  decking  afresh 
their  soft  plumage,  began  to  warble  their  matinal  paeans  to  Him 
who  feedeth  the  young  sparrows  and  satisfieth  the  desires  of  every 
living  creature. 

The  hand  of  autumn  was  just  beginning  to  touch  with  mellow 
dyes  the  rich  foliage  of  the  woodlands.  Already  her  presence  had 
hushed  into  holy  stillness  the  roystering  summer,  and  filled  the 
soul  of  nature  with  cahn,  contemplative  thought. 

Beside  the  uncurtained  window,  Charley  lay  on  his  soft,  clean 
bed,  looking  out  into  the  gray  dawn  of  the  morning.  The  long, 
weary  hours  of  the  night  in  which  fitful  sleep  brought  only  ghast- 
ly dreams,  were  passed  at  last,  and  as  he  cauglit  the  first  faint 
beams  of  the  opening  day,  he  thanked  God  that  the  dreary  night- 
watches  were  over.  His  head  ached — oh,  so  severely;  and  his 
heart  sadly — ah,  so  sadly !  Alone — alone  !  His  friends  gone 
— and  he  in  pain  and  suffering,  amid  strangers,  away,  far,  far  away 
from  home  and  kindred.  No  mother  to  bend  over  him  and  soothe 
his  throbbing  brain ;  no  father's  voice  to  bid  him  hope ;  no  sister's 
gentle  hand  to  smooth  his  pillow  or  administer  the  cooling  febri- 
fuge. Alone — alone !  Great,  scalding  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes, 
and  chased  each  other  down  his  face. 

He  endeavored  to  disengage  his  mind  from  these  sad  contempla- 
tions, and,  turning  on  liis  pillow,  he  strained  his  gaze  through  the 
window,  to  find,  if  perchance  he  might,  some  object  to  distract  his 
attention.  He  saw  the  uprising  sun  battling  with  the  slothful 
clouds,  sending  his  golden  glory  through  the  ridgy  rifts,  and  heard 
the  birds  sing  from  amid  the  drooping  boughs  that  came  down 
over  his  open  window,  and  he  thought  but  the  more  of  home — for 
often  in  his  careless  boyhood  had  he  looked  upon  the  same  morn- 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  249 

ing  scene,  and  listened  to  the  sweet  songs  of  early  birds.  And  the 
tears,  a  moment  before  wiped  away,  now  streamed  thick  and 
fast. 

Just  then  the  loud  and  ringing  shouts  of  his  happy  comrades,  as 
they  broke  up  camp  and  set  out  on  their  homeward  inarch,  borne 
on  the  morning's  breeze,  came  in  througli  the  casement  and  fell  on 
his  ear.     He  sighed  deep. 

"Gone — gone — to  Kentucky!"  he  sadly  murmured  to  himself. 
*'And  I  am  here  alone— left  without  a  friend— perhaps  to  die! 
They  go  to  meet  with  parents  and  sisters,  and  mingle  with  them 
in  joy  and  gladness  amid  the  haunts  of  olden  times,  while  I,  in 
sickness  and  pain,  must  linger  here  in  a  strange  land,  with  strange 
faces  around  me,  where  no  one  will  care  for  me— and  all  tlie  kind- 
ness I.  shall  receive  will  be  bestowed  because  I  am  a  Southern  sol- 
dier. Hard— hard  fate !  Oh,  the  horrors  of  this  dreadful  strife  ! 
When  shall  it  end,  and  we  be  permitted  to  return  to  homes  and 
friends  in  peace?" 

Just  then  a  gentle  rap  was  heard  at  his  room  door.  He  wiped 
away  his  tears,  and,  assuming  as  cheerful  a  tone  as  he  could,  re- 
plied, "  Come  in."  Supposing  it  to  be  one  of  Mr.  Johnson's  family, 
he  drew  the  light  spread  up  so  as  to  conceal  his  face. 

''  Good-morning,  Charley.  How  do  you  do  ?  What,  old  fellow, 
here  by  yourself  ?  Where  is  Dr.  Lapsley  ?  I  thought  he  was  go- 
ing to  cure  you  immediately,  so  that  you  might  go  into  Kentucky. 
Didn't  know  but  that  I  might  find  you  well  enough  to  set  out  with 
us  this  morning.  Came  by  to  see.  Say,  my  boy,  can't  you  be  off? 
I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  leaving  you  behind.  How  do  you 
feel,  anyhow?  Let  me  call  the  doctor;  isn't  he  in  the  house? 
Perhaps  he  will  agree  for  you  to  go.  I  don't  know  but  a  ride  in 
the  cool  morning  would  do  you  good.  You  can  rest  in  the  heat 
of  the  day.  I  will  stay  with  you,  and  we  can  travel  when  it  is 
cool.     What  say  you,  Charley?" 

"  Oh,  John,  I  wish  I  could  go.  But  I  fear  I  am  too  sick.  My 
liead  aches  dreadfully,  and  I  feel  feverish  and  full  of  pain.  But  I 
am  tempted  to  risk  it,  anyhow.  I  had  just  as  well  die  in  the 
effort  to  return,  as  to  lie  here  and  waste  away.  I  am  sure  it  will 
kill  me  to  remain  after  you  are  all  gone.  The  boys  have  all  left, 
I  suppose  ?" 

''  Yes ;  started  out  but  a  little  while  ago.  Didn't  you  hear  their 
shouts?  A  force  left  this  morning  before  daylight — an  advance. 
All  of  our  mess,  except  myself,  and  I  obtained  permission  to  re- 
main, to  come  over  and  see  how  you  did  this  morning." 

11* 


250  RAIDS    AND    KOMANTE 

•'I  am  very  glad  you  did,  John,"  the  sick  man  replied,  looking 
gratefully  up  into  the  face  of  his  friend. 

•'  I  have  some  little  keepsakes  I  Tvish  you  to  take  home  for  me. 
I  intended  to  mention  it  to  you  and  Brent  yesterday,  but  in  the 
c-(jnfusion  of  the  hour,  I  entirely  forgot  it.  Look  there,  John,  in 
tliat  valise,  you  will  find  two  rings  and  a  breast-pin.  Give  the 
one  with  the  three  sets  in  it  to  my  sister;  the  other,  John,  with 
the  two  hearts,  to  Mary.  The  pin  I  wish  my  mother  to  have. 
And  here,  John,  take  your  knife,  and  cut  off  this  lock  of  hair,  and 
give  it  to  them  at  home." 

""Why,  Charley,  what  do  you  mean?''  asked  his  friend,  in 
astonishment.  "  You  talk  as  if  you  were  making  yonr  last  will 
and  testament.  I  shan't  cut  off  your  hair  at  all.  Yon  will  be 
sure  then  to  think  you  are  going  to  die,  and  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
persuade  the  home-folks  that  you  are  not  dead  and  buried.  No, 
no.  You  must  make  haste  and  get  well,  and  carry  your  own 
love-tokens.  When  shall  I  tell  them  you  are  coming?  I  must 
see  the  doctor,  where  is  he  ?     I  hope  he  will  decide  to  let  you  go, 

DOW." 

"John,  I  am  in  earnest.  I  know  you  will  not  refuse  me  this 
last  request,  before  we  part.  I  am  very  sick.  I  may  die.  I  de- 
sire that  those  three  articles  may  be  given  as  I  have  said.  They 
are  my  own  work,  made,  as  you  know,  at  Camp  Chase.  If  I 
should  die,  and  I  may,  you  know,  John,  they  will  be  Httle  me- 
mentoes that  my  friends  will  cherish  for  my  sake;  and  if  I  should 
recover — why,  it  will  all  be  right." 

"  Oh,  well,  Charley,  I  will  take  them  if  you  wish  me  to,  you 
know.  But  there  is  no  need  of  sending  souvenirs  home,  that  I  can 
see.  You  will  get  there  as  soon  as  we  do.  We  go  to  open  the 
way  for  you,  and  there  will  be  nothing  left  for  you  to  do  but  fol- 
low on." 

John  stepped  to  the  valise,  which  stood  in  the  corner  of  the 
room,  under  the  stairway,  and,  unlocking  it,  drew  forth  the  keep- 
sakes. 

"Kow,  John,  the  hair,"  said  Charley.  "You  know  that  is  an 
item  of  the  request." 

"Well,  where  will  I  cut  it?"  inquired  John,  assuming  a  gay 
.'iir,  although  he  felt  as  if  preparing  his  friend  for  the  coffin.  "  It 
will  gratify  you,  and  the  hair  will  do  for  the  girls  to  make  rings  of, 
;ind  keep  in  their  memory-boxes.  You  know  all  the  ladies  take  a 
i"ck  of  Colonel  Morgan's  hair.  I  have  seen  them  myself  walk 
feiraight  up  to  hira  with  a  pair  of  scissors  in  hand  and  clip  off  a 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS    MEN.  251 

bit  without  leave  or  license,  and  you,  Charley,  wish  to  be  as  re- 
nowned in  this  particular  as  the  colonel.  Ah,  me,  we  are  all  am- 
bitious!  But  tell  me  where  I  must  take  it  oflf?  Here,  just 
behind  the  ear?     It  will  show  less  than  anywhere  else." 

"  It  matters  not,  John  ;  wherever  it  suits  your  fancy." 

"  See,  here,  I  have  i?ot  a  big  lock :  this  is  enough  to  give  you 
renown  throughout  all  Louisville.  The  ornamental  hair-makers 
will  have  enough  to  do  for  weeks  to  manufacture  it  into  charms, 
and  rings,  and  guards,  etc.,  etc.  But  where  will  I  find  the  doc- 
tor, Cliarley  ?  I  must  see  him  before  I  go,  and  it  is  high  time  I 
was  off.  Tlie  Yanks  will  catch  me,  if  I  don't  look  out  pretty 
sharply." 

''The  doctor  is  up  those  stairs,  John.  I  don't  think  he  is  out 
of  bed  yet." 

''Well,  he  must  get  up  and  tell  me  just  exactly  how  you  are. 
That's  what  I  came  here  for.  I  wnshed  to  know  precisely  how 
your  case  stands.  Til  go  up  and  rouse  him.  It's  high  time  he 
was  out  of  bed,  anyhow." 

Without  further  ceremony  John  sprang  up  the  stairway,  three 
steps  at  a  time,  and,  approaching  the  doctor's  bedside,  shook  him 
most  violently. 

"I  want  to  know  just  how  Charley  is,  doctor,  before  I  set  out. 
His  friends  will  be  anxious  to  hear  all  the  particulars.  He  is 
awake  now." 

The  doctor  made  a  hasty  toilet  and  descended  to  the  sick  man's 
room.     He  examined  him  closely,  and  shook  his  head. 

''I  must  go.  Charley,"  said  John,  bending  over  his  bedside.  "  I 
hope  you  will  soon  be  well  enough  to  join  us  in  old  Kentucky. 
Don't  give  up ;  you  are  not  very  sick.  He  will  be  well  in  a  few 
days  ;  won't  he,  doctor  ?" 

"  I  liope  so,  in  the  course  of  a  week  or  ten  days  at  the  most," 
replied  Dr.  Lapsley. 

"My  love  to  all  Kentucky  friends,  John,"  said  Charley,  in  a 
voice  choked  with  emotion,  while  his  bosom  heaved,  and  his  eyes 
became  suffused  with  tears. 

"And  shall  tell  them  you  will  come  as  soon  as  you  get  well?" 

Charley  bowed  assent. 

"Good- by,  Charley;  keep  in  good  spirits,"  and  John  shook  his 
friend's  hand  most  affectionately. 

Charley  returned  the  kindiy  grasp,  but  no  words  escaped  his 
lips.     He  dared  not  trust  himself  with  utterance. 

John  wiped  away  the  teai-s  with  his  rough  coak-sleeve,  and 


252  RAroS    AND    ROMANCE 

grasping  again  the  outstretched  hand,  turned  hastily  away  and 
passed  out  of  the  door. 

The  doctor  followed  hira  to  the  stile. 

"What  do  you  think  of  Charley's  case,  doctor  ?"  asked  John,  as 
the  two  walked  out. 

"  He  is  not  very  sick,  now;  but  I  think,  from  all  his  symptoms, 
that  he  may  have  a  serious  spell.  He  is  greatly  threatened  with 
typhoid  fever." 

"•  What  shall  I  tell  his  parents  when  I  see  them  ?" 

The  doctor,  looking  down  on  the  ground,  hesitated  for  some 
time  to  answer. 

"Tell  them,"  he  said  at  length,  "that  he  is  quite  sick,  but  not 
dangerously  so.  I  will  give  him  every  attention,  and,  I  think, 
with  careful  nursing,  he  may  be  up  in  the  course  of  two  weeks,  at 
most." 

John  shook  the  doctor's  hand  warmly,  and,  mounting  his  horse, 
galloped  off  at  full  speed  to  join  his  command. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS   MEN.  253 


CHAPTER  XLVL 

THE    VISIT    OB^    THE     ANGEL    OF    DEATH. 

Low,  in  that  still,  dark  chamber,  the  young  girl  bent  over  the 
wasted  form  of  the  patient  sufferer,  as  she  lay  there  on  the  soft, 
white  couch,  resignedly  awaiting  the  summons  of  the  messenger 
that  should  bear  her  to  the  mansion  prepared  above. 

Long  had  the  tried  soul  looked  calmly  at  death  as  one  who 
sliould  deliver  her  from  the  pain  and  sorrow  of  tliis  present  time, 
and  anxiously  had  she  desired  his  guidance  into  that  ''  world  to 
come,"  whose  heavenly  glory  from  afur  had  shone  in  upon  her 
longing  spirit,  giving  it  a  foretaste  of  that  fruition  wliich  awaits 
the  humble  child  of  God  in  His  infinite  presence.  Day  by  day 
had  the  immortal  being  been  purified,  sublimated,  and  now  yet  a 
little  while  and  it  should  cast  off  the  last  lingering  remains  of 
earth,  and  rise  to  live  forever  amid  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory  ! 

Faithfully,  tenderly,  had  the  daughter  watched  beside  the  be- 
loved mother.  Gently  had  her  hand  smoothed  the  aching  pillow, 
soothed  the  fevered  temples,  wiped  the  damps  of  disease  from  the 
white,  transparent  brow  ;  had  administered  with  solicitude  to  each 
want,  had  anticipated  every  rising  desire. 

Her  form  was  that  of  an  angel  minister,  her  light  foot-fall  as 
sweetest  music  to  the  loving  mother,  whose  dimming  eye  would 
rest  with  look  of  tenderest  affection  upon  her  darling  child.  And 
often  would  the  mother's  heavenly  aspirations  fall  back  to  earth 
and  linger  there,  as  she  thought  that  soon  she  should  see  no  more 
with  earthly  vision  this  cherished  one,  who,  bereft  of  a  mother's 
affection  and  care,  must  walk  the  paths  of  life  alone — no  guiding 
hand  to  point  out  to  her  its  hidden  snares  and  pit-falls. 

They  were  together  alone  one  evening — the  mother  and  daugh- 
ter. The  physician  had  just  left,  who  had  confirmed  the  opinion 
of  Mrs.  Lawrence,  that  a  few  hours  more  might  end  her  sufferings. 

It  was  a  soft,  still,  September  evening.  The  golden  rays  of  the 
depariing  sun  stole  faintly  in  through  the  draped  window,  and 
rested  on  the  couch  of  the  dying  woman,  and  then  fretted  oat  in 


254:  -RAIDS   AXD   ROMANCE 

dreamy  lines  upon  the  dark  carpet  of  the  floor.  A  fire  was  flick- 
ering in  the  grate.  The  mantel  clock,  with  its  wonted  stroke, 
measured  off  the  last  hours  of  the  waning  life.  Mary,  to  whom 
Dr.  Hardin's  words  were  not  unexpected,  for  her  quick  eye  had 
perceived  the  change  come  on  which  marks  mortality .  for  the 
tomb,  but  upon  whose  young  and  devoted  heart  the  announce- 
ment of  its  certainty  fell  as  the  storm  on  the  crushed  flower — the 
death-knell  on  the  ear  of  joy — sat  weeping  beside  the  bed,  holding 
the  cold,  wasted  hand  in  hers.  Her  heart  was  well-nigh  break- 
ing, yet  she  endeavored  to  suppress  her  emotion,  for  she  would 
not  disturb,  by  her  grief,  the  last  moments  of  her  beloved  parent. 

The  dying  woman  fixed  her  languid  eyes,  beaming  in  their 
wasted  light  with  love  to  her  child,  upon  the  bowed  form  before 
her — then  closed  them — and  the  thin  bloodless  lips  moved  in  prayer. 

"Mary,  my  child,"  she  said — her  voice  was  very  feeble — ''God 
will  protect  you,  my  darling." 

The  young  girl  sobbed  aloud. 

"  "Weep  not,  my  child.  I  go  to  be  forever  at  rest."  She  paused, 
for  her  breath  came  feebly  up.  ''And  you — God  will  shield  and 
protect  you.  You  have  given  Him  your  heart.  He  will  never 
leave  nor  forsake  you."  The  eyes  closed,  and  the  sufferer  lay 
silent,  exhausted.  Recovering,  she  attempted  to  proceed — it 
required  great  effort.  "  Trust  in  His  promises,  and  seek  his  gui- 
dance. And  your  brother,  Mary,  should  you  ever  see  him  again, 
tell  him  my  last  moments  were  spent  in  prayer  to  God  that  he 
might  be  saved.  Urge  upon  him  the  necessity  of  turning  to  God. 
Comfort  your  father,  my  child.  He  will  be  lonely  now.  Weep 
not  for  me,  Mary.     'Tis  the  Lord — He  doeth  what  is  right." 

The  sobbing  girl  slid  from  her  chair,  and,  kneeling  beside  the 
couch,  buried  her  face  in  the  clothes,  and  wept  convulsively.  The 
mother  lifted  her  feeble  hand  and  rested  it  amid  the  luxuriant  curls 
that  fell  over  the  bowed  face.  ''  God  bless  you,  my  child,  and 
give  you  that  consolation  which  He  alone  can  impart.  And  be 
thou,  O  Eternal  Father,  her  guide  and  strength  through  all  the 
coming  years  of  life  !" 

The  husband  entered,  and  seated  himself  beside  his  dying  wife 
and  sobbing  child.  His  heart  was  too  full  for  utterance  ;  and  as 
he  realized  the  solemn  scene,  the  tears  gathered  and  swept  down 
his  furrowed  face.  The  manly  form  was  buried  beneath  the  weight 
of  anguish  that  pressed  upon  the  chastened  soul. 

The  wife  turned  her  look  to  his.  Her  breathing  was  growing 
each  moment  fainter  and  more  faint. 


OF   MOIIGAN    AND   HIS    MEN.  255 

*'I  am  going,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "but  do  not  grieve  for  me. 
It's  hard  to  part  ^vith  you  and  my  dear  cliildren,  but  God,  who 
does  all  things  well,  calls  me  hence,  and  I  must  go."  She  paused 
for  breath.  Iler  eyes  drooped.  For  many  minutes  she  was  silent. 
Her  breathing  became  more  oppressed.  The  color  appeared  very 
faintly  in  the  sunken  cheek.  She  pressed  her  hand  on  her  heart, 
and  gasped  as  if  struggling  for  breath. 

Some  friends  entered  the  room  and  apj)r()ached  the  bedside. 
''Air,  air!"  gasped  the  sufferer.  Mary  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
threw  open  the  window.     ''Lift — me — uj),"  she  feebly  uttered. 

Mr.  Lawrence,  with  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Douglas  and  her  sis- 
ter, Mrs.  Grant,  raised  her  from  the  pillow,  and,  supported  in  an 
upright  position,  she  motioned  to  be  removed  to  the  large  chair  in 
which  she"  had  so  often  sat  when  suff^ing  from  this  difficulty  of 
respiration.  Gently  they  bore  her  and  placed  her  in  it.  She 
gazed  feebly  up,  while  a  half-formed  smile  played  round  her  lips, 
then  closed  her  eyes,  and  her  head  sank  on  her  bosom.  Her 
breathing  became  more  and  mt^re  labored  :  the  pulse  in  the  fallen 
hand  less  and  less  distinct. 

"Oh,  the  doctor!  the  doctor!  Pam,  Maria,  for  Dr.  Hardin. 
Oh,  mother,  mother!"  exclaimed  Mary,  convulsively,  as  she  threw 
her  arms  wildly  around  the  suffering  form  and  pressed  it  to  her 
bosom.  "  Oh,  mother,  mother !  can't  you  speak  to  me,  your  child  ? 
One  word,  just  one  word  !" 

The  husband,  trembling  in  every  nerve,  stood  over  his  dying 
wife,  bathing  the  pallid  brow.  Mrs.  Grant  and  Mrs.  Douglas 
rubbed  the  cold  extremities. 

The  anguished  daughter  could  do  nothing  but  cling  to  the  loved 
form  of  her  idolized  parent,  and  give  vent  to  the  bursting  grief  of 
her  heart. 

'*  Oh,  mother !  don't  you  know  me — your  own  child,  your  Mary? 
Oh,  mother,  dear  mother!  speak  one  word  to  me — ^just  one  word, 
mother.  Oh  !  you  are  not  dying — you  will  not  leave  us.  Mother 
— mother!"  and  the  poor,  grief-stricken  girl  sunk  to  the  floor  and 
clasped  her  mother's  knees,  as  if,  in  her  frenzied  madness,  she  felt 
a  power  to  stay  life's  ebbing  tide. 

The  dying  woman  opened  her  eyes  feebly,  and  made  an  effort 
to  look  up.  The  lids  drooped  again,  the  labored  breath  grew 
fainter,  a  short,  quick  gasp,  and  the  mother's  life  was  done! 

It  was  but  a  minute — so  quickly  passed — it  was  difficult  to  re- 
alize that  death,  in  ghastly  form,  was  in  their  midst.  When  the 
dread  reality  burst  upon  them,  the  father  >ank  on  the  bed,  si-eech- 


256  RAIDS   AXD  KOMANCE 

less  with  grief.     Mary  uttered  one  wild,  piercing  cry,  and  fell 
fainting  to  the  floor. 

The  physician  entered.  He  read,  in  a  moment,  the  fearful  fact. 
Assisted  by  the  servant,  he  placed  the  dead  form  of  Mrs.  Lawrence 
on  the  bed,  and,  turning  to  Mary,  proceeded  to  restore  her.  It 
was  some  minutes  before  consciousness  returned  ;  then,  springing 
to  the  bedside,  she  threw  herself  on  tlie  cold,  rigid  form  of  her 
mother,  and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

It  was  a  sad,  solemn  scene.  Death  had  come  to  claim  his  vic- 
tim, and  though  not  without  warning,  it  was  hard  to  bow  to  his 
^stern,  relentless  will.  Oh,  how  it  rends  the  throbbing  heart,  to 
stand  and  gaze  on  the  cold  motionless  form  of  one  who  but  a  few 
moments  before  was  with  us — whose  eyes  looked  fondly  into  our 
own — whose  words  of  love  fell  on  our  ear  as  whisperings  from  the 
upper  spheres!  We  gaze,  and  fear  and  wonder  mingle  with  our 
grief,  and  the  awe-filled  soul  asks  itself,—"  Is  this  death  ?"  Ah, 
what  is  this  strange,  dread  power,  whose  fiat  none  can  withstand? 
And  the  spirit — the  life  that  we  have  loved,  with  which  we  have 
walked  and  held  sweet  converse — where  has  it  fled,  ah,  whither 
gone  ? — and  shall  we  be  permitted  again  to  meet  it  and  enjoy  its 
companionship? 

How  often  along  our  pilgrim-path  are  our  most  clierished  hopes, 
like  the  beautiful  temple  before  the  whirlwind's  wrath,  dashed  to 
the  earth  by  this  invincible  power!  We  spread  out  on  the  glow- 
ing canvass  of  the  future  our  life-pictures,  colored  in  roseate  tints 
of  expectancy  and  joy,  and  when  the  scene  is  complete  in  beauty, 
and  happiness  alone  is  breathed  by  every  form  ^nd  feature,  then 
Death  comes,  and  with  one  bold  master-stroke,  dashes  his  pencil, 
dyed  in  darkness,  over  the  picture,  and  with  bowed  head  and  break- 
ing heart  we  stand  as  in  a  maze,  and  gaze  on  the  wrecked  loveli- 
ness over  which  despair  sits  brooding.  Ah,  what  can  console  the 
crushed  soul  under  its  poignant  sorrow  ?  what  impart  light  to  it 
amid  its  rayless  gloom  ?  Naught,  naught,  save  that  promise,  all 
radiant  with  the  beams  of  God's  infinite  mercy,  which  for  eighteen 
hundred  years  of  wailing  and  of  gloom  has  come  in  tones  of  heav- 
enly tenderness  to  the  hopeless  spirit — "  I  am  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life." 

Even  when  we  weep  over  the  grave  of  buried  love,  and  in  all 
the  misgiving  of.  our  contracted  vision  we  ask,  with  the  patriarch 
of  old,  "If  a  man  die,  can  he  live  again?"  there  comes  swelling 
up  in  tones  of  celestial  harmony  the  response,  "I  am  the  Resur- 


OF  MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  257 

rection  and  the  Life,"  and  our  feeble  faith  "lifts  a  wing  with  the 
angels,"  and  anchors  itself  hard  by  the  throne  of  God. 

The  night  wore  by.  I  will  not  attempt  to  depict  the  grief  of 
the  stricken  husband  and  orphaned  daughter. 

Morning  came.  In  the  still,  silent  chamber,  hung  with  the 
drapery  of  death,  the  lifeless  form  lay  robed  in  the  habiliments  of 
the  grave.  Beside  the  open  coffin  the  weeping  daughter  knelt 
alone  with  the  dead.  Through  streams  of  blinding  tears  she 
gazed  on  the  pule,  rigid  face,  until  the  accumulated  anguish  of 
her  soul  burst  forth  in  convulsive  gasps.  She  bowed  herself,  and 
in  the  bitterness  of  her  soul  wept  until  exhausted,  prostrated — 
her  grief  found  vent  only  in  sad,  low  moans.  Rising,  she 
smoothed  the  marble  brow,  placed  a  white  rose  on  the  pulseless 
bosom,  then  kissing  and  kissing  again  the  icy  lips,  she  took  one 
long,  lingering  look,  and  turned  away  to  weep. 

It  was  the  daughter's  farewell  to  the  dead  mother.  Never 
again  did  she  behold  the  sleeping  form. 

Evening  came.  Slowly  the  long  procession  of  mourners  mov^ed 
through  the  streets,  wending  its  way  to  the  "City  of  the  Dead." 

"  Dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes,"  said  the  man  of  God,  as  the 
body  was  lowered  into  its  narrow  house.  Then  came  the  rattling 
of  the  clods  on  the  coffin-lid.  A  few  minutes  of  breathless 
silence,  while  the  hearts  of  the  spectators  commune  with  death,' 
and  the  low  tones  of  the  minister  rise  in  subdued  notes  to  the 
throne  of  God  for  mercy  on  the  dying  congregation,  which  soon, 
one  by  one,  must  turn  aside  from  life  and  come  and  take  up  their 
abode  in  the  silent  chamber  of  the  grave. 

To  their  darkened  home  the  father  and  daughter  return.  Oh, 
how  sadly  desolate]  How  fearfully  void!  The  world,  too,  is 
dark,  the  heavens  hung  with  gloom.  Light,  light!  Ah,  it  is  no- 
where to  be  seen.  To  the  chambers  of  the  soul  enshrouded  in 
despair,  hope  comes  not ;  nor  is  there  a  whispering  of  joy  in  all 
the  music  of  the  earth.  Poor,  oppressed  mourners  I  naught  save 
the  voice  of  the  Gospel  can  carry  consolation  and  peace  to  your 
stricken  bosoms. 


258  EADDS   AND   EOMANCE 


CHAPTER  XLYII. 


It  were  a  work  of  supererogation  to  dwell  leDgthily  on  the 
campaign  into  Kentucky.  Every  reader  is  familiar  with  its  most 
trivial  incidents.  The  battles  of  Big  Hill  and  Richmond,  in 
which  our  men  drove  the  flying  foe  before  tliem  with  most  fearful 
slaugliter — the  successful  occupation  of  central  Kentucky  by 
General  Kirby  Smith's  army — the  victorious  assault  on  the  Fed- 
eral garrison  at  Mumfordsville  by  a  portion  of  General  Bragg's 
forces — the  race  between  Bragg  and  Buell  for  Louisville,  and  the 
great  excitement  of  both  parties  in  Kentucky  consequent  on  the 
relative  movements  of  these  two  generals — the  great  rush  of  Fed- 
eral troops  into  the  State  to  oppose  and  drive  out  the  Southern 
army — the  bloody  battle  of  Perryville — the  retreat  of  the  Confed- 
erates— all  these  stirring  circumstances  of  war  are  as  household 
Words  to  every  Southern  heart. 

The  invasion  of  Kentucky  was  a  bold,  a  daring  movement. 
Could  it  have  been  made  earlier,  before  the  hosts  of  Lincoln 
troops  were  ready  for  the  battle-field,  it  doubtless  would  have, 
proved  more  of  a  success  than  it  did.  As  it  was,  the  forces  tliat 
were  sent  against  the  Southern  army,  although  not  disciplined, 
were  well  armed,  and  overwhelming  in  numbers.  The  movement 
of  the  Confederates  through  the  State  was  so  rapid,  as  to  make  it 
an  impossibility  that  large  numbers  of  recruits  should  join  tlieir 
ranks;  and,  while  in  this  respect  the  campaign  must  be  regarded 
as  a  failure,  the  want  of  success  should  be  attributed  to  the  un- 
ffivorableness  of  the  circumstances,  and  not  to  the  lack  of  devotion 
on  the  part  of  a  large  proportion  of  Kentuckians  to  the  South.ern 
cause. 

Kentucky  is  to-day,  if  her  intelligence  and  interest  were  allowed 
to  speak  out  boldly,  Southern,  truly  Southern.  She  has  been 
duped,  deceived,  enslaved ;  but,  seeing  the  suicidal  folly  of  her 
former  course,  she  is  now  beginning  to  awake  to  a  true  sense  of 
her  position  and  her  rights ;  and  she  will  yet,  let  us  hope,  stand 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS    MEN,  259 

nobly  forth  in  tlefence  of  tlio<e  pfreat  principles  for  which  the 
South  has  earnestly  and  victoriously  combated. 

The  campaijin  has  been  pronounced  a  failure,  a  sad,  sad  faux 
pas,  and  the  commanding  general  has  been  sorely  censured  for 
want  of  ability  and  oversight  of  i)oints  which  would  have  insured 
tu  tlie  Confederate  arms  a  glorious  victory.  Were  the  design  of 
the  invasion  the  permanent  occuj)ation  of  the  State  by  General 
Bragg's  army,  then,  indeed,  did  the  movement  most  sadly  mis- 
carry. 

If  the  object  was  to  withdraw  the  Federal  forces  from  their 
threatening  position  to  north  Alabama,  relieve  eastern  Tennessee, 
obtain  a  supply  of  provisions  and  clothing  for  the  men,  and  give 
the  Southern  sentiment  of  the  State  an  opportunity  to  enlist  under 
the  Southern  flag,  then  it  was  not  a  failure,  even  though  the  ex- 
pectations of  the  friends  of  the  South  might  not  have  been  fully 
realized  in  any  of  these  particulars. 

General  Buell  was  compelled  to  withdraw  his  forces  from  south- 
ern Tennessee  to  northern  Kentucky.  The  Federals,  under  General 
Morgan,  found  themselves  forced  to  abandon  Cumberland  Gap,  and 
thus  was  this  important  point  regained  to  us.  Provisions  and 
clothing,  to  a  large  extent,  were  secured,  and  if  recruits  did  not 
swell  the  ranks  of  the  Confederates  to  meet  even  our  most  modest 
hopes,  we  must  consider  all  the  circumstances,  and  also  remember 
that  General  Bragg  was  clothed  with  no  power  of  conscription 
whereby  to  enlarge  his  forces  to  the  desired  maximum. 

That  expectations  were  not  met,  none  can  deny.  But  were  not 
our  hopes  the  offspring  of  desire,  rather  than  of  sound  judgment? 
And  even  if  all  was  not  accomplished  that  might  reasonably  have 
been  looked  for,  let  us  not  censure  where  we  do  not  fully  under- 
stayed.  Failure  does  not  always  argue  a  want  of  capacity — and 
certainly  not  of  patriotism.  The  contingencies  of  war  are  so  man}-, 
and  so  frequently  have  the  best  plans  of  the  best  generals  been  de- 
feated by  fortuitous  circumstances,  that  every  reasonable  mind 
must  admit  that  "  the  battle  is  not  always  to  the  strong,"  but  that 
the  hand  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  guides  to  results. 

The  bridal  party,  after  having  passed  a  joyous  week  at  Bards- 
town  and  vicinity,  returned  to  the  city.  In  that  short  time  Evan- 
geline Lenoir  had  become  the  affianced-of  Edward  Lasley,  a  dash- 
ing young  man  of  twenty-four,  who,  having  been  left  possessor  of 
a  large,  fortune  just  as  he  had  attained  his  majority,  had  given 
himself  up  to  the  indulgence  of  every  whim  and  caprice  tbat  his 
versatile  nature  could  suggest.     His  father  had  died  when  Edward 


260  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

was  but  twelve  years  of  age.  His  mother,  whose  wedded  life  had 
not  been  happy,  owing  to  the  acerbity  of  her  husband's  temper 
and  his  continued  neglect  of  her  comfort,  had  never  married  again, 
but  with  the  devotion  of  a  tender,  loving  parent,  had  given  her 
whole  time  to  the  development  of  her  son,  devoting  herself  with 
the  most  solicitous  care  to  the  cultivation  of-  such  traits  as  her 
judgment  approved,  and  to  the  suppression  of  those  characteristics 
the  indulgence  of  which  she  felt  must  lead  hira  to  ruin.  But  de- 
spite her  vigilant  watchfulness,  the  son  had  grown  up  hot-headed, 
self-willed,  and  given  to  self-indulgence.  In  his  early  childhood 
he  had  manifested  this  wayward  disposition,  and  shown  sad  proof 
at  an  early  age  that  he  had  inherited  the  sporting  character  of  his 
father.  When  at  school,  he  was  always  the  leader  in  all  disputes 
and  combats — the  agonistarch  of  the  neighborhood.  Handsome, 
fascinating,  wlien  he  desired  to  be,  he  had  won  the  admiration  of 
Evangeline,  who,  with  all  the  ardor  of  her  French  nature,  had 
been  captivated  by  the  handsome  face,  exquisite  moustache,  and 
easy  neglige  air  of  the  young  man  ;  who,  in  turn,  had  yielded  to  the 
charms  of  personal  beauty,  and  the  magnetic  power  of  her  natural 
vivacity  and  grace,  so  strikingly  in  contrast  with  the  cold,  dead 
manner  of  the  maiden  aunt,  who  was  now  the  only  near  relative 
he  had.  The  aunt,  with  whom  he  lived,  was  about  sixteen  years 
his  senior,  fastidious,  imperious,  captious.  Possessed  of  ample 
means.  Miss  Dorcas  Lasley  led  a  life  of  unhappy  indolence  and  ca- 
pricious gratification,  spending  half  her  time  plucking  the  gray 
hairs  from  her  head,  and  the  other  half  in  putting  them  in,  by 
fretting  over  every  thing  that  came  within  her  purview. 

When  she  heard  that  ''Edward,"  as  she  always  called  her  neph- 
ew, was  devoting  his  attentions  to  Miss  Lenoir,  she  fell  into  a  tow- 
ering passion,  declaring  that  a  boy  of  his  age  was  not  capable  of 
judging  for  himself,  and  had  better  be  thinking  about  doing  some- 
thing for  himself  in  the  world.  Miss  Dorcas,  in  a  monetary  view, 
was  the  antipode  of  her  deceased  brother  and  his  son.  Frugal 
almost  to  parsimoniousness,  she  had  added  each  year  to  the  com- 
fortable estate  left  her  by  her  father,  until  she  had  grown  to  be 
one  of  the  wealthy  inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood. 

The  bride  had  returned  to  spend  the  fall  and  winter  with  her 
mother.  This  Mr,  Spalding  had  promised  the  doating  parents 
when  they  consented  to  the  marriage  of  their  daugliter.  He  had 
decided  to  engage  in  business  in  the  city,  and  the  arrangement  was 
a  very  happy  one  to  all  parties. 

Two  weeks  had  passed  since  the  marriage — about  the  same 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  261 

length  of  time  since  tiie  death  of  Mrs.  Lawrence.  During  that  in- 
terval, great  changes  had  been  made  in  the  i)()sition  of  tlie  Con- 
federate forces  in  Tennessee.  The  jtlan  which  had  been  adopted 
by  the  genenils  as  wisest  and  best  for  the  repossession  of  that 
State  by  the  Southern  forces,  and  the  occupation  of  Kentucky,  it 
])ossible,  was  hastening  to  a  devtdopment. 

The  family  of  Mr.  K.,  seated  around  the  fire,  were  discussing  liio 
l)rospects  of  the  fall  campaign,  when  Mary  Lawrence  entered,  clad 
in  deep  mourning,  her  face  expressive  of  the  greatest  excitement. 
Without  waiting  to  bid  them  good-evening,  she  exclaimed,  breath- 
less with  agitation,  "  Have  you  heard  the  news — the  glorious  news  ? 
General  Bragg  is  coming  into  Kentucky  ;  going  to  march  directly 
for  Louisville !  General  Kirby  Smith  is  already  in  the  State,  as 
you  know,  and  he  has  whipped  the  Federals  completely  near  Rich- 
mond, and  they  are  now  flying  before  him  as  fiist  as  they  can  run. 
General  Bill  Nelson  is  killed,  too,  the  report  says,  and  the  whole 
army  is  literally  cut  to  pieces.  The  Union  men  in  the  city  are 
running  to  and  fro,  like  so  many  madmen,  scared  to  death  for  fear 
the  Confederates  will  march  right  down  on  Louisville,  and  take  it 
before  they  can  get  troojjs  across  the  river  to  protect  it.  I  never, 
in  all  my  life,  saw  such  a  commotion ;  the  whole  town  is  frantic. 
They  are  moving  every  thing  they  regard  valuable  across  the  river, 
and  they  are  really  making  preparations  to  surrender  the  city,  I 
believfe." 

Exhausted,  the  young  girl  sank  on  the  sofa  beside  her.  Mrs.  R. 
looked  up  in  amazement,  while  Mr.  Spalding  sprang  to  his  feet 
as  if  electrified.  The  young  bride  remained  transfixed  to  her  seat, 
her  face  turned  with  the  most  earnest  look  towards  her  friend, 
and  filled  with  an  expression  of  wonder:  she  was  the  first  to 
speak — 

"Oh!  Mary,  Mary!  can  all  this  be  true  ?  I  fear  it  is  too  good 
to  be  believed.  Have  you  not  been  deceived  ?  The  city  is  always 
so  full  of  rumors  that  prove  so  false  when  you  test  them  ;  and  I 
fear  this  is  like  most  of  its  predecessors." 

"  True,  Lu  ;  of  course  it  is.  If  you  could  only  be  in  the  city  for 
an  hour,  you  would  not  be  disposed  to  doubt  it !" 

''What  is  the  authority.  Miss  Lawrence?  did  you  understand?" 
asked  Mr.  Spalding,  eagerly. 

''Telegraphic  dispatches,  sir,  from  Lexington — dispatclies  which 
have  been  received  to-day  at  headquarters,  and  which  Union  men, 
in  their  great  consternation,  could  not  conceal." 

"  Ob,  that  it  may  be  true !"  exclaimed  the  young  bride,  clasping 


262  RAIDS    AND    ROMANO  K 

her  hands  energetically.     "■Then  shall  we  once   again   see   our 
friends." 

"Oh,  you  need  not  fear,  Lu  ;  it  is  certainly  so.  The  whole 
town  is  filled  with  the  intelligence.  All  the  Union  men  believe  it. 
It  has  c<jme  by  telegraph,  and  will  be  in  to-morrow's  papers.  You 
never  saw  such  a  stir  in  all  your  life.  People  are  thronging  the 
streets,  and  it  looks  as  if  everybody  were  beside  themselves.  Pa 
came  rushing  in  after  dinner,  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head,  and 
he  was  scarcely  able  to  speak.  We  were  all  terribly  alarmed  at 
his  appearance,  and  could  not  imagine  what  was  the  matter,  and 
it  was  some  time  before  he  was-  composed  enough  to  tell  us.  As 
soon  as  I  understood  the  story,  I  called  the  carriage,  and  Sunday 
evening  as  it  is,  I  drove  out  here  as  fast  as  I  could  to  tell  you  the 
good  news;  and  now  you  are  disposed  to  discredit  my  whole 
story.  ■  Isn't  that  too  bad!" 

"  Oh  !  no,  Mary,  I  would  not  doubt,  but  rather  fear  to  beheve 
lest  we  be  sorely  disappointed,  as  we  have  so  often  been  before." 

"  Call  your  father,  daughter,  and  let  him  hear  the  glad  tidings. 
He  is  asleep  in  the  back  chamber.  Take  off  your  hat,  Mary.  Did 
you  go  to  church  to-day  ?  Mr.  R.  was  not  very  well,  and  we  did 
not  go  in.  Really,  Mr.  McKee  is  such  a  coercionisti  cannot  enjoy 
his  sermons,  and  I  find  that  we  allow  the  least  thing  to  kee[)  us  at 
home." 

"I  was  out  this  morning,  Mrs,  R.,  but  did  not  hear  Mr.  McKee. 
I  go  to  the  Baptist  church.  Their  minister  preaches  the  gospel, 
and  is  a  good  Southern  man,  though  no  politician." 

"Oh!  father,  father!"  cried  out  Lu,  thumping  against  the 
chamber  door,  where  her  father  was  sleeping.  "Do  get  up  in  a 
minute,  and  come  and  hear  the  good  news.  The  Southerners  are 
all  coming  into  Kentucky — Bragg,  Morgan,  Charley,  all,  going  to 
take  Louisville  and  hold  the  State." 

The  old  gentleman  sprang  from  his  bed,  aroused  more  by  his 
daughter's  wild  manner  than  her  message. 

"  Ct>me,  father,  come  to  the  parlor ;  Mary  Lawrence  is  just  out 
from  the  city — come  on  purpose  to  tell  us  all  about  it.  There  is 
no  doubt  of  it — all  the  Union  men  believe  it,  and  are  scared  out  of 
their  wits.  Mary  says  they  are  dashing  about  the  streets  like 
crazy  people." 

"  And  what  is  the  news,  Lu  ?"  asked  the  old  man,  rubbing  his 
eyes  to  get  them  fairly  open. 

. "  Oh  !  come,  father,  and  let  Mary  tell  you  herself;"  and  Lu  took 
his  hand  and  led  him  along  the  darkened  hall  into  the  sitting-room. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  263 

'•How  do  you  do,  Mary?"  said  the  old  man,  smiling,  and  ex- 
tending his  hand.  '*■  What  is  all  this  wonderful  news  Lu  has  been 
trying  to  tell  me  about  Bragg  and  Morgan  coming  into  Kentucky, 
and  taking  Louisville  ?" 

*'  Oh  !  Mr,  R.,  it  is  all  so,  sir.     Everybody  believes  it." 

'^  Believes  what,  Mary?"  asked  the  old  gentleman,  smiling  at  his 
young  friend's  eager  manner. 

*•  Why,  that  General  Smith  has  whipped  the  Lincolnites  all  to 
pieces  at  Richmond— that  General  Bill  Nelson  was  killed  in  the 
fight,^aud  Colonel  Jacobs  either  killed  or  seriously  wounded— that 
the  Yankees  are  retreating  us  fast  as  they  can  to  Louisville,  and 
the  Confederates  have  Lexington  by  this  time.  And  General 
Bragg  is  coming  into  the  State  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  army,  and 
the  Southerners  are  going  to  hold  Kentucky.  It  is  true,  Mr.  R  , 
that,General  Kirby  Smith  has  routed  the  Federals  at  Big  Hill  near 
Richmond,  and  is  marching  victoriously  upon  Lexington.  This 
part  of  the  story  will  admit  of  no  doubt.  Pa  says  all  the  Union 
men  acknowledge  it,  and  are  half  wild  lest  he  should  move  on  and 
take  possession  of  Louisville  before  they  can  make  any  preparation 
for  defence. 

"And  do  you  think  all  this  can  be  relied  upon?"  asked  the  old 
man,  as  much  excited  as  any  of  the  party. 

"Oh  1  there  is  no  doubt  of  ir,  sir.  Pa  had  it  from  the  most  au- 
thentfc  source.  You  know,  Mr.  R.,  pa  is  not  a  very  excitable 
man,  and  by  no  means  credulous.  He  has  so  often  been  disap- 
pointed about  the  Confederates  coming  to  Louisville,  that  he  is 
now  afraid  to  believe  any  thing  in  our  favor.  But  he  thinks  every 
word  of  this  is  true ;  and  you  would  too,  Mr.  R.,  if  you  could  be 
in  town  half  an  hour  and  see  the  craziness  of  the  Unionists.  They 
are  running  hither  and  thither  half  the  time,  not  knowing  what 
they  are  about;  but  all  agree  in  saying  that  their  forces  have  been 
butchered— that  is  the  term  they  use— at  Big  Hill  and  Richmond." 

"And,  what  is  better  than  all,"  further  interposed  Lilly,  who, 
np  to  this  time,  had  been  a  silent  but  highly  interested  listener, 
"Morgan  will  be  here  and  bring  all  our  friends  with  him.  Oh, 
won't  that  be  a  joyous  time  !  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  too  happy.  I 
am  going  right  to  work  to-morrow  morning  to  prepare  for  them. 
All  the  peaches,  and  preserves,  and  jellies  that  we  kept  so  long 
last  fall,  waiting  for  Buckner's  men  to  come,  are  nearly  gone.  I 
must  get  to  work  and  bake  dozens  of  big  cakes,  and  make  all  the 
nice  things  I  can  think  of,  for  brother  Charley  and  his  friends. 
Won't  you  stay  and  help  me,  Miss  Mary  ?"  and  Lilly  sat  down 


264  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

beside  her  visitor  and  grasped  her  hand  imploringly.  The  ear- 
nestness of  her  soul  spoke  out  in  lier  large  gray  eyes,  and  happy 
anticipation  from  every  lineament  of  her  face. 

"  Can't  stay  to-nigli*,  Lilly,  but  I  will  come  out  again  to-mor- 
row, and  we  will  then  bake  the  cakes.  Pa  will  look  for  me  to 
return.  He  is  lonely  now,"  and  a  sad  look  stole  over  Mary's  face 
as  she  thought  of  her  great  bereavement. 

"  And  then  suppose,  girls,  the  boys  do  not  come  ?  You  will 
have  baked  your  cakes  in  vain." 

"Oh,  but  they  will  come,  Mr.  R.  And  if  they  don't— but  I 
will  not  allow  myself  to  think  they  will  not.  Lu,  don't  you  intend 
to  make  some  preparation  for  them  ?  and  don't  you,  Mrs.  R.  ?" 

"Oh,  indeed  I  will,  Mary,  if  there  is  the  least  prospect  of  their 
getting  here.  I  shall  prepare  every  thing  good  I  can  think  of," 
responded  Mrs.  R.,  with  animation.  She  was  quite,  as  enthi»sias- 
tic  as  the  girls,  and  ready  for  any  good  work. 

"Indeed,  Lulu,  I  think  you  and  Miss  Mary  and  Lilly  had  bet- 
ter prepare  lint  and  bandages  for  the  wounded.  They  cannot 
take  Louisville  without  a  severe  battle,  and  many  a-^poor  fellow 
must  fall  before  we  can  welcome  our  friends  back  to  their  homes 
again."  i 

"  That  is  too  true,  Mr.  Spalding,"  responded  Mary,  thought- 
fully, "and  I  shall  not  forget  your  suggestion.  Oh,  my  heart 
bleeds,  when  I  think  that  perhaps  friends  may  fall  in  the  strife. 
Oh,  that  this  horrid  war  could  end  without  any  further  blood- 
shed !  But  I  must  leave,  it  is  growing  late,  Lilly.  Get  your  hat 
and  ride  in  with  me.  Your  father  can  call  for  you  to-morrow — 
can't  you,  Mr.  R.  ?" 

"I  will  bring  you  out  after  we  receive  the  morning  news." 

"  Can't  you  remain  with  us  tonight,  Mary?" 

"  Ko,  thank  you,  Mrs.  R, ;  pa  made  me  promise  to  be  back  to- 
night. He  wants  the  carriage  early  in  the  morning  for  some  pur- 
pose. I  only  came  out  to  tell  you  the  good  news.  I  knew  you 
would  enjoy  it  so  much.  Mr.  McKee  would  be  almost  tempted 
to  church  me,  if  he  knew  that  I  had  been  engaged  in  such  'unholy 
business.'  Don't  you  think  he  would  ?  Come,  Lilly,  where  is  your 
hat  ?     We  have  just  time  to  drive  to  the  city  before  dark." 

Bidding  the  friends  good-evening,  the  two  girls  entered  the  car- 
riage and  drove  rapidly  to  the  city. 


OF   MOKGA^f    A_ND    HIS   MEN.  265 


CIIArXER   XLVIII. 

DEPARTURE. 

Lmmeuiatkly  after  tlie  death  of  his  wife,  Mr.  Lawrence  gave 
ui»  his  establishment.  Bereaved,  saddened,  he  could  no  longer 
remain  amid  the  scenes  of  his  former  joy  and  happiness,  now  so 
enveloped  in  gloom.  He  took  boarding  for  himself  and  daughter 
with  a  friend,  a  distant  relative  of  his,  who  had  been  left  a  widow 
about  two  years  before.  Uer  only  child  was  a  boy  of  seventeen, 
and  Mary  finding  but  little  companionship  in  the  house,  spent  as 
much  of  her  time  as  her  duty  to  her  father  would  allow  with  her 
friend  Lu,  who,  though  married,  yet  found  a  large  place  in  her 
heart  for  the  companion  of  her  childhood.  They  already  regarded 
each  other  as  sisters,  and  Mary  found  a  solace  for  her  grief  in  un- 
bosoming lier  sorrows  and  anticipations  to  one  who  could  so 
readily  sympathize  with  her. 

Mr.  Lawrence's  time  was  very  much  occupied  in  settling  up  his 
business,  preparatory  to  moving  South.  As  soon  as  it  was  known 
in  Louisville  that  the  Confederate  forces,  under  General  Smith, 
were  assuredly  moving  into  Kentucky,  he  determined,  in  the 
event  they  had  to  leave  the  State,  to  go  out  with  them,  and  for 
this  purpose  he  was  daily  making  arrangements  for  a  speedy  de- 
parture from  the  city. 

When  Mary  reached  his  room,  she  found  him  sitting  in  his  old 
arm-chair  before  the  fire,  his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  and  ab- 
sorbed in  thought.  She  was  pained  at  the  expression  of  his  face, 
for  in  addition  to  its  usual  sadness,  it  wore  a  look  of  anxiety  and 
gloom. 

She  approaclied  him,  and  throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
kissed  him,  and  in  a  sweet,  persuasive  voice  endeavored  to  win 
l)im  from  his  sorrow.  He  replied  tenderly  to  her  caresses,  and  as 
he  gazed  upon  her,  the  large  tears  started  to  his  eyes  and  silently 
coursed  down  his  cheeks.  She  wiped  them  away,  and  inquired 
the  cause. 

Seating  her  on  his  knee,  and  throwing  his  arm  around  her,  he 
proceeded  to-  unfold  to  her  his  plans. 

"I  have  been  thinking,  daughter,  while  you  were  out,  that  now 

12 


266  EAIDS    A2^D  r.OMANCE 

is  my  opportunity  for  throwing  otf  tliis  galling  slavery,  by  going 
into  Confederate  lines  and  remaining  there." 

Mary  looked  up  astonished. 

•'  Why,  father,  why  need  you  leave  Louisville  ?  The  Southern- 
ers will  certainly  take  possession  of  this  place.  Tiiere  is  no  doubt 
about  it,  pa.  Just  wait  a  little  while,  and  you  will  see  there  will 
be  no  need  for  you  to  seek  Confederate  protection — it  will  come 
to  you." 

"  We  cannot  now  know  any  thing  with  certainty  respecting  the 
permanent  occupation  of  our  State  by  the  Coufederate^,  my 
daughter,  althougii  every  thing  now  looks  so  promising.  They 
may  be  able  to  hold  it,  and  they  may  not.  If  they  remain,  it  will 
be  an  easy  matter  for  me  to  return  to  Louisville;  if  they  do  not,  1 
shall  be  safe  in  leaving."  - 

Mary  looked  up  earnestly  into  his  face.  She  did  not  fully  com- 
prehend his  meaning.  She  waited  a  moment,  hoping  her  father 
would  explain  himself.  Jiendiug  a  sad  look  upon  his  daughter, 
Mr.  Lawrence  resumed : 

"  The  only  obstacle  in  the  way,  Mary,  is  leaving  you." 

*' Leaving  me,  pa!",  she  exclaimed,  with  surprise.  "You 
surely  wouldn't  go  and  leave  me  behind?  What  would  I  do  with- 
out you?" 

The  father  scarcely  knew  how  to  reply.  There  were  difficulties 
in  either  case,  which  he  hardly  knew  how  to  meet.  After  think- 
ing for  some  moments,  during  which  time  Mary  gazed  beseechingly 
upon  him,  he  said  : 

"If  I  stay  h^'e,  my  daughter,  I  may  be  arrested  at  any  moment, 
and  sent  to  prison.  If  I  go,  I  shall  be  free  from  this  dreadful  ap- 
prehension. If  the  Confederates  remain  in  Kentucky,  I  can  return 
to  you  again ;  if  not,  I  can  send  for  you  at  any  time.  You  will  be 
safe  here  among  your  friends,  in  any  event,  and  I  may  have  an 
opportunity  to  send  for  you  if  the  Confederates  are  driven  back. 
For  me  to  remain  longer  is  to  endanger  my  liberty.  And  as  my 
preparations  are  nearly  completed,  I  feel  I  had  better  set  ou't  the 
first  suitable  opportunity." 

"  You  are  right,  pa,"  said  Mary,  throwing  her  arms  about  her 
father.  "  I  would  rather  you  were  safe  in  the  Confederacy,  than 
to  have  you  remain  here,  all  the  time  in  fear.  And  then,  as  you 
say,  they  may  arrest  you  and  put  you  in  prison,  as  they  did  last 
summer,  when  Morgan  was  here,  and  perhaps  they  would  not  re- 
lease you  in  years  to  come.  But,  pa,  why  can't  I  go  with  you  ? 
You  know  I'm  not  afraid  of  danger." 


OF    MORGAN    AND    1J16    MhN.  267 

"But,  Mary,  you  had  better  wait  until  I  can  get  through,  and 
secure  a  home  for  you.  I  bhaii  liave  to  go  clandestinely ;  tliey 
would  not  grant  nie  u  pass,  and  1  may  have  to  walk  half  the  way 
to  Lexington.  The  roads  are  thronged,  1  suppose,  with  the  Fed- 
erals retreating  upon  Louisville." 

"  J)Ut  when  will  you  go,  pa?'' 

'^  To-morrow  evening,  if  1  get  all  arrangements  made.  I  will 
drive  out  to  pr.  Foree's,  aud  send  the  carriage  back,  dei)ending 
ou  their  kindness  to  convey  me  beyond  danger.  It  is  best  that  1 
should  go,  Mary,"  added  the  father,  as  he  saw  the  flushing  face  of 
his  child,  and  readily  understood  the  mighty  effort  it  required 
for  her  to  suppress  her  tears.  '•  You  understand  it  all,  my 
child?" 

Mary  buried  her  head  without  speaking.  Her  judgment  ap- 
proved her  father's  suggestion — her  feelings  revolted  against  it. 

''And  you  will  send  for  me  just  as  soon  as  you  determine  what 
is  best  to  be  done — won't  you,  pa?"  she  said,  as  cheerfully  as  she 
could. 

"Yes,  my  child;  or  come  after  you  myself,  if  circumstances 
will  allow." 

"1  must  go  to  Lilly,  now;  I  left  her  down  stairs,  with  cousin 
Pauline.  To-morrow,  pa,  I  will  arrange  your  clothes;"  and  kiss- 
ing her  father  again,  she  arose  from  his  knee,  and  went  dowu 
stairs  in  search  of  her  friend. 

Exhausted  from  the  excitement  of  the  day,  Mary  sought  her 
room  at  an  early  hour.  After  conversing  for  some  time  on  the 
prospects  before  thenj,  the  two  girls  retired  to  bed.  Lilly,  young 
and  free  from  all  care,  soon  fell  asleep ;  but  Mary,  to  whom  the 
last  year  had  taught  many  a  sad  lesson  of  anxiety  and  thought, 
lay,  her  mind  distracted  with  doubt  and  apprehension,  and  many 
a  slowly  measured  hour  wore  by  before  she  could  calm  herself  to 
sleep.  She  awoke  with  the  early  morning  light  from  her  unre- 
freshing  slumbers,  and,  making  a  hasty  toilet,  applied  herself  to 
preparations  for  her  father's  departure.  It  was  a  heavy  task  for 
her  poor  breaking  heart  to  accomplish,  but  amid  her  dark  trial 
she  had  one  consoling  thought  which  she  constantly  whispered  to 
herself:  I  shall  soon  get  within  Confederate  lines,  and  then  1 
shall  see  Charley  and  my  brother ! 

"  I  cannot  go  with  you  this  morning,  Lilly,  but  I  will  be  out 
late  this  afternoon  or  to-morrow.  Meanwhile,  you  and  Lu  must 
begin  your  preparations.  You  see  what  Prentice  says;  and  more- 
over, the  whole  Legislature  from  Frankfort  reached  here  a  few 


268  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

minutes  ago,  fleeing  in  liot  liaste  from  tlie  Confederate  forces, 
who,  it  is  said,  are  now  in  possession  of  Lexington." 

"  Be  sure  to  come  tliis  evening,  Mary;  we  sliall  look  for  you." 

"Lu  said  I  mu^t  not  fail  to  bring  you  out  this  morning,  Miss 
Mary,"  said  Mr.  Spalding,  rising  to  meet  them  as  they  entered 
the  parlor.  "  She  is  expecting  you,  and  so  is  Mrs.  R.  They  will 
be  greatly  disappointed  if  I  fail  to  bring  you.  Come,  get  your 
hat;  I  cannot  be  denied." 

'•Thank  you,  Mr.  Spalding;  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  go  out 
now.  I  have  an  engagement  that  will  keep  me  in  the  city  until 
late  this  evening.  If  I  am  well,  I  will  drive  out  about  sundown  ; 
but,  should  I  fail  to  do  so,  look  for  me  to-morrow.     Love  to  all." 

'^  To-night,  Mary,  we  shall  expect  you,"  and  Lilly  kissed  her 
friend  and  sprang  into  the  carriage. 

"Don't  let  me  look  in  vain,  Miss  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Spalding, 
shaking  the  delicate  hand,  "Lu  is  never  so  happy  as  when  you 
are  with  us." 

"  Ah !  Lu  needs  me  not  now,  Mr.  Spalding,  to  make  her  happy. 
You  have  stolen  her  from  me,  and  I  am  left  alone." 

"Soon  to  be  disposed  of  in  the  same  way,  I  judge,  if  the  Con- 
federates reach  Louisville,"  said  Mr.  Spalding,  mischievously,  as  he 
seated  himself  beside  Lilly. 

Mary  blushed :  the  two,  bidding  her  adieu,  drove  off. 

Mary  accompanied  her  father  to  make  a  last  visit  to  the  grave 
of  the  mother,  and  place  there  some  tokens  of  remembrance. 
Above  the  hallowed  mound  the  two  knelt  and  silently  wept.  Their 
grief  was  too  sacred  for  words.  The  heart  alone  could  indite 
voiceless  petitions  to  the  throne  of  the  unseen  Father  for  guidance 
and  consolation.  Ah  !  what  pen  can  describe,  what  pencil  por- 
tray the  grief  of  the  crushed  heart  as  it  bows  over  the  grave  ol 
buried  love  ?  A  mourner  on  the  waste  of  time,  the  sad  soul  wanders, 
and  sees  no  promise  of  hope,  save  in  the  goal  which  death  offers. 

Placing  the  mementoes  of  love  on  the  newly  made  grave,  the 
father  and  diiughter  arose  and  silently  wended  their  way  bj^ck  to 
the  carriage. 

Moments  there  are  in  the  life  of  every  individual,  when  the 
heart,  communing  with  itself,  holds  its  joy  or  grief  too  holy  to 
mention  even  to  the  dearest  bosom  friend.  We  would  not  clothe 
our  emotions  in  words  to  whisper  even  to  ourselves. 

Evening  came.  Arrangements  were  completed  :  Mr.  Lawrence 
was  ready  to  depart. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   ME.V.  2G9 

"Good-by,  my  child!  God  bless  you  and  keep  you  from  all 
harm,"  he  said,  in  broken  accents,  as  he  pressed  Mary  to  his  bosom 
and  kissed  her  tear-bathed  cheek.  Tiie  sobbing  girl  clung  to  her 
father  in  silent  grief.  Oh,  how  desolate  she  felt  as  she  stood  there 
leaning  against  the  i)illar  of  the  front  portico,  watching  the  car- 
riage bear  away  her  loved  parent — her  last  friend !  As  it  disap- 
peared fronriier  view,  she  burst  into  a  fresh  paroxysm  of  tears, 
and  turned  to  seek  her  chamber,  that  she  might  weep  there  alone 
free  from  the  gaze  of  human  eyes. 

There  is  a  luxurious  relief  in  tears,  when  the  stricken  soul  can 
weep  its  fulness  of  sorrow  away  unmolested  by  prying  curiosity, 
or  cold,  hollow  words  of  sympathy.  What  can  others  understand 
of  our  grief?  Even  though  another  has  felt  what  we  now  feel^  has 
not  time  measurably  healed  the  anguish?  The  remembrance  may 
remain — the  poignancy  is  gone. 

And  then,  how  sad  a  thing  it  is  to  feel  ourselves  alone  in  this 
hollow  world!  Alone!  How  like  a  death-knell  falls  this  hollow 
word  on  the  isolated  heart !  To  crowd  our  sympathies,  loves, 
joys,  sorrows,  expectations,  hopes,  into  our  own  bosoms,  there  to 
remain — for  we  are  alone  on  the  earth — what  oppressive  anguish  ! 
How  the  poor  burdened  soul  feels  like  bursting  as  it  vainly  seeks 
relief  in  tears  and  sighs !  We  must  have  sympathy.  Life  without 
friendship  is  but  a  miserable  groping  mid  the  dark  labyrinths  of 
passion  and  despair.  The  nature  with  which  God  has  endowed 
us  requires  that  heart  commune  with  heart;  and  the  outer  life  can 
as  well  exist  without  its  legitimate  nourishment,  as  the  inner  lite 
without  sympathy  and  love.  Asceticism  is  an  anomaly — a  lusus 
naturce — the  contemplation  of  which  should  till  every  well-poised 
mind  with  horror. 

Mary  Lawrence,  as  she  sat  weeping  in  her  chamber,  felt  the  need 
of  some  congenial  spirit  to  share  with  her  the  grief  that  wrapt  her 
soul.  Instinctively  her  thoughts  turned  to  the  friend  of  her  child- 
hood.* Bathing  her  face  so  as  to  remove  the  traces  of  her  bitter 
tears  and  cool  her  fevered  brow,  she  threw  on  her  hat  and  mantle, 
and  calling  the  carriage,  drove  out  to  Mr.  R.'a. 

"Why,  Mary  dear!  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  exclaimed 
Ln,  as  she  threw  her  arms  about  the  young  girl  and  kissed  her. 
"  You  look  as  if  you  had  been  weeping  for  hours.  No  bad  news  I 
hope.     Do  tell  me,  have  you  heard  any  bad  intelligence?" 

Her  voice  was  tremulous,  and  she  grew  ashen  pale  as  she  looked 
upon  Mary,  who  had  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 


270  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

"  Come  into  mother's  room,"  she  said,  as,  gently  taking  her 
hand,  she  led  her  along  the  hall  to  the  family-room. 

'' Wli}',  Mary, — Lu, —  what  is  the  matter  with  the  girls?"  said 
Mrs.  R.,  as  she  sprang  from  her  seat,  and  clasping  Mary  in  her 
arms,  partly  bore  her  to  a  rocking-chair  which  stood  beside  the 
window,  near  the  fire. 

The  mother  looked  inquiringly  at  her  daughter.  Mrs.  Spalding 
shook  her  head. 

"  Oh,  Mary,  do  tell  me,  ray  child,  why  you  weep !  Have  you 
heard  any  bad  news  from  the  army  ?  Are  any  of  our  friends  sick 
or  dead?" 

Suppressing  her  emotion  as  well  as  she  could,  the  sobbing  girl 
ejaculated  in  broken  sentences  : 

"Xo — no — Mrs.  R.,  not  that.  Pa  has  gone — gone — to  the 
army." 

"Your  father  gone  to  the  army,  Mary  I"  exclaimed  Mrs.  R.  and 
her  daughter  at  the  same  moment,  their  voice  and  manner  betray- 
ing the  greatest  surprise. 

"Yes,  gone — gone — left  this  morning  for  Lexington." 

"  To  join  General  Smith  ?     Why,  how  can  he  get  there,  child  ?" 

Mrs.  R..  with  the  gentleness  of  a  mother,  removed  Mary's  hat 
and  mantle,  and  by  kind  words  endeavored  to  soothe  her. 

After  a  few  moments,  she  sufficiently  recovered  from  her  emo- 
tion to  tell  Mrs.  R.  the  sad  tale  of  her  sorrow. 

The  friends  were  greatly  surprised  to  hear  of  Mr.  Lawrence's 
sudden  departure,  but  when  the  reasons  were  given,  his  course  ap- 
peared one  of  wisdom. 

Mr.  R.  had  returned  from  the  city  and  brought  with  him  the 
Bulletin  and  the  Evening  Xeics.  The  latest  telegrams  were  filled 
with  the  success  of  the  Confederates,  their  advance  towards  Louis- 
ville and  Cincinnati,  and  the  consequent  panic  and  dismay  of  Union 
sympathizers  and  Yankee  soldiery. 

It  was  asserted  by  Prentice,  as  a  fact  incontestable,  that  General 
Bragg  was  marching  northward,  with  the  avowed  design  of  tak- 
ing permanent  possession  of  Kentucky ;  also,  that  Colonel  John  H. 
Morgan,  at  the  head  of  a  large  cavalry  force,  had  been  dispatched 
to  intercept  the  Federal  General  Morgan,  in  his  retreat  from  Cum- 
berland Gap.  The  tone  of  the  editorials  was  gloomy  enough. 
Unionists  were  quaking  with  alarm.  The  entire  State  was  threat- 
ened, a  part  of  it  already  in  the  possession  of  the  Confederates, 
who  were  daily  extending  their  lines,  and  daily  receiving  acces- 
sions to  their  ranks. 


OF    MORGAN  AND   HIS   MEN.  t^YI 

"Oh  !  do  you  think,  Mr.  Spalding,  that  we  shall  be  able  to  hold 
Kentucky?"  said  Mary,  as  she  threw  aside  the  paper,  and  leaned 
earnestly  forward  to  catch  his  reply.  "  Old  Prentice  is  evidently 
alarmed,  and  Ilarney  too.  I  wonder  why  they  didn't  send  Col- 
onel Morgan  to  take  Louisville?  I  am  afraid  General  Smith  will 
wait  until  the  Lincolnites  are  so  strong  here  it  will  be  difficult  to 
do.  They  are  coming  in  every  day,  and  I  see  it  is  stated  in  nie 
^eics  that  General  Nelson  will  take  command  here  in  a  few  days. 
I  thought  he  was  severely  wounded  V 

"And  so  he  was,  Miss  Mary,  but  it  has  been  two  weeks,  you 
know,  since  the  battle,  and  he  has  measurably  recovered." 

"Mr.  R.,  do  you  think  the  Southerners  will  hold  Kentucky?" 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  tell,  Mary.  That  will  depend  greatly,  yes, 
entirely,  on  General  Bragg.  It  is  impossible  for  General  Smith  to 
do  so  without  assistance.  There  is  a  great  contrariety  of  opinion 
respecting  Bragg's  intentions;  some  believing  that  he  designs  to 
remain  here  thn)Ugh  the  winter — others  that  he  only  wishes  to 
force  Buell  from  Tennessee,  and  regain  Cumberland  Gap,  by  for- 
cing General  Morgan  to  abandon  it.  I  confess,  from  the  confused 
and  contradictory  statements  of  our  papers,  I  am  unable  to  form 
any  just  decision.  No  one  can  decide  fully  what  will  be  the  end 
of  this  mighty  movement.  "We  can  but  hope  that  it  may  prove 
eminently  successful ;  but  there  are  two  to  play  the  game,  and 
some  of  the  Unionists  are  sanguine  that  the  whole  thing  will  prove 
a  failure." 

"  On  what  do  they  base  their  hopes,  Mr.  R.  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"On  their  numbers,  and  the  hope  that  Buell,  who  is  moving 
rapidly  on  Louisville,  will  reach  here  before  Bragg.  In  which 
event,  they  feel  confident  that  with  nis  own  army,  combined  with 
the  reinforcements  that  they  can  bring  to  this  point  from  Indiana, 
Illinois,  and  Ohio,  he  will  soon  drive  the  Confederates  South 
again." 

"I  hope  the  Confederates  will  not  attempt  to  come  to  Louisville 
now,"  interposed  Mr.  Spalding. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  say  so.  Why  do  you  wish  this  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Spalding  and  Mary. 

"For  the<e  reasons,"  replied  Mr.  Spalding.  "It  would  not  be 
worth  the  trouble  and  loss  of  life,  even  if  they  should  take  it. 
Every  tiling  of  value  has  been  removed  beyond  the  river.  They 
would  only  get  some  shoes  and  clothing  which  the  Southern  ele- 
ment now  holds,  and  this  they  will  get  anyhow,  if  they  but  hold 
central  Kentucky.     And,  moreover,  if  they  should  take  the  city. 


272  KAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

they  could  not  hold  it  against  the  gunboats  and  the  artillery  the 
enemy  could  bring  to  bear  against  it  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river." 

"But  would  the  Yankees  shell  it,  Mr.  Spalding,  do  you  think? 
Is  there  not  too  much  Union  capital  here  for  that?" 

"But,  even  admitting,  Mr.  R.,  that  this  would  not  be  done,  it 
•wmild  certainly  be  too  far  north  for  a  base  of  the  Confederates. 
They  should  be  nearer  the  centre  of  the  State.  Remember,  the 
Cujuberland  and  Tennessee  rivers  are  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy." 

"That  is  very  true,  sir  ;  and  I  suppose  if  the  Confederates  leave 
the  State,  they  would  go  out  by  way  of  Cumberland  Gap?" 

"  Undoubtedly  so.  There  is  no  other  safe  exit  for  them.  And 
your  father  has  gone  to  Lexington,  Mary  ?  I  was  astonished 
when  Mr.  Sparke  told  me  of  it.     What  was  his  idea  for  leaving?" 

"To  get  into  Dixie,  Mr.  R.,"  replied  Mary,  choking  down  the 
tears  that  were  ready  to  overflow  at  the  mere  mention  of  her 
father's  name.  "It  has  been  his  intention  for  some  time  to  go 
South  as  soon  as  he  could  ;  and  regarding  this  as  a  fine  opportu- 
nity to  got  witiiin  Confederate  boundary,  he  determined  to  avail 
himself  of  it,  fearing  if  he  should  delay  he  might  have  difficulty, 
even  if  he  succeeded  at  all,  and  that  if  he  remained  he  would  be 
imprisoned." 

"  A  very  wise  decision,  I  think.  And  he  has  left  you  to  us,  I 
hope,  Mary  ?" 

"  Oh  !  I  am  going  through,  too,  just  as  soon  as  pa  finds  out  what 
the  Southerners  are  going  to  do." 

"But  you  will  stay  with  us,  Mary,  until  you  do  go  through?" 
said  Lilly,  beseechingly. 

"  Oh  yes,  Lilly,  I  will  stay  with  you  a  great  deal.  This  is  more 
like  home  to  me  now  than  any  other  spot  on  earth.  You  know 
I  never  go  to  my  old  home  now  that  another  owns  it." 

Ten  o'clock  came.  The  family  retired.  Lilly  and  Mary  re- 
mained in  the  sitting-room,  as  girls  are  wont  to  do,  after  the  others 
had  left,  to  talk  over  their  own  particular  plans. 

"  Oh,  Mary,  how  I  wish  I  could  go  through  to  Lexington  with 
you!  I  am  almost  crazy  to  see  brother  Charley.  I  wonder  if  pa 
will  let  me  go  ?  You  know  he  consented  for  sister  Lu  to  go  to 
Camp  Chase." 

""We  can  ask  him,  Lilly.  I  hope  he  will,  I  should  be  so  glad 
id  have  you  go  with  me." 

"But  how  will  we  get  back,  Mary,  if  the  Soutlierners  liave  to 
leave  Kentuckv?" 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MKN.  273 

'•Oh,  Lilly,  I  am  going  out  with  them.  Didn't  you  know  that? 
We  are  going  South  to  live." 

"  Aiul  what  would  I  do?" 

'Can't  you  go,  too?  A  winter  South  would  be  fine  for  your 
health,"  rei>lied  her  friend,  pleasantly.  "  Or,  Lilly,  if  you  can't 
go  South,  you  could  remain  in  Lexington  or  Georgetown  until  ihe 
railroad  communication  is  established,  and  then  return  to  the 
city." 

"  That  I  could.  And  I'll  ask  pa  to-morrow  to  let  me  go.  Sis- 
ter Lu  will  be  here  to  keep  mother  company,  and  I  shan't  go  to 
school  any  more  this  fall.  I  expect,  Mary,  Evangeline  Lenoir 
would  be  glad  to  go  with  us.  You  know  her  sweetheart,  Hany 
Roberts,  is  with  John  Morgan  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  girl,  you  are  mistaken.  Ilarry  used  to  be  Evan- 
geline's sweetheart,  but  she  has  proved  false  to  him.  Don't  you 
know  she  is  engaged  to  Edward  Lasley,  of  Bardstown  ?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  that,  Mary.  I  have  heard  it.  But,  surely 
she  would  never  think  of  giving  up  such  a  lover  as  Harry  Roberts 
for  young  Lasley.  Lasley  has  nothing  to  recommend  him  but  his 
line  appearance  and  his  fortune,  while  Harry  is  noble,  true,  brave, 
one  of  the  finest  young  men  in  all  this  city. 

"  But  Evangeline  is  assuredly  engaged  to  Ed.  Lasley.  I  know 
it,  and  the}-  are  to  be  married  the  IGth  of  next  month.  She  wished 
me  to  be  bridemaid ;  but  you  know,  even  if  I  were  going  to 
remain  here,  I  could  not  accept  her  invitation.  I  would  not  change 
my  dress  to  be  married  myself." 

"  Oh,  is  it  possible  !  How  shameful  in  Evangeline  to  treat  Harry 
so.  He  is  one  of  the  noblest  young  men  in  the  world.  She  may 
live  to  repent  her  folly.  Ed.  Lasley  is  by  no  means  steady  in  his 
habits." 

"  But  lie  has  money.  Evangeline  has  none.  And,  moreover, 
she  is  fickle." 

''Her  aunt  is  wealthy,  Mary,  and  has  no  children.  Of  course 
slie  will  inherit  that  fortune.     She  need  not  marry  for  money." 

"  Oh,  she  is^so  notional  and  inconsistent  by  nature.  And  what 
a  pity,  too ;  she  is  so  beautiful,  so  generous  and  kind.  It  will  be 
a  sad  blow  to  Poor  Harry,  when  he  hears  it,  foe  he  idolizes  her,  and 
cannot  see  that  she  has  a  defect.  Poor  fellow !  it  is  hard.  Biit 
then,  perhaps  she  would  not  make  him  happy,  and  it  may  be  for 
the  best." 

"  Oh,  if  she  were  married,  I  am  sure  she  and  Harry  would  be 
happy,  she  is  so  afi*ectionate.     x\nd  she  loves  him,  1  know." 


274  EAIDS    AND    ROMANCFi: 

Just  then  a  loud  knock  was  lieard  at  the  front  door. 

"  What  can  that  mean,  Lilly  ?"  said  Mary,  starting  up  with  fright. 

The  two  girls  stared  at  each  other  in  breathless  silence,  their 
hearts  beating  audi  hi}'. 

'^  Perhaps  it  is  some  drunken  Lincolnite,"  whispered  Lilly,  aa 
sha  moved  close  up  beside  Mary,  and  grasped  her  arm. 

"  Perhaps  we  were  mistaken,  Lilly.  It  might  have  been  some 
other  noise.  But  didn't  it  sound  very  much  like  a  rap  at  the 
door?" 

"  Indeed  it  did  ;  but  it  might  have  been  some  of  tlie  servants  hi 
the  kitchen." 

The  two  girls  stood  breathless  for  a  moment.  Rap,  rap,  rap, 
went  the  door  again,  louder  than  before. 

The  aifrighted  girls  hesitated  no  longer,  but,  seizing  the  lamp, 
hastened  through  the  hall  into  Mrs.  R.'s  sleeping-room. 

"  Father,  father,"  said  Lilly,  in  a  whisper,  at  the  same  time 
shaking  her  father  with  all  her  power ;  "  father,  there  is  somebody 
at  the  front  door — we  have  heard  them  knock  twice," 

"  Oh,  you  must  be  mistaken,  my  daughter,  no  one  could  come 
here  without  arousing  the  dogs.     Have  they  been  barking  ?" 

"No,  sir,  I  have  not  heard  them." 

"  Well,  then,  you  are  mistaken,  daughter.  Go  to  bed.  It's  too 
late  for  you  and  Mary  to  be  up,"  and  Mr.  R.  turned  over  to  com- 
pose himself  again  to  sleep. 

"  There  it  is  again,  father.     Don't  you  hear  it  ?" 

The  old  gentleman  sprang  from  his  bed,  and  hastening  to  the 
window,  called  out  in  a  stentorian  voice  :  "  Whose  there,  and  what 
do  you  want  at  this  hour  of  the  night  ?" 

The  two  girls  stood  trembling  with  fear,  lest  a  bullet  from  some 
Lincoln  gun  should  speed  its  way  into  the  room. 

"Be  still,  girls ;  let's  hear  what  the  man  says,"  whispered  Mrs. 
R.,  as  her  husband  threw  open  the  shutters. 

"  Who  are  you?"  repeated  the  old  gentleman,  as  the  visitor, 
forsaking  the  porch,  approached  and  stood  under  the  window. 

"A  Southern  soldier — one  of  Morgan's  men,"  was  the  answer. 

"Charley — Charley!"  shrieked  Lilly,  and  rushed  to  the  win- 
dow. Her  father  caught  her  and  drew  her  back.  "Charley!" 
slie  exclaimed,  "is  that  you,  my  brother — my  brother?" 

"It  is  not  your  brother,  but  I  bring  news  from  him." 

"  And  where  is  he — oh,  tell  me,  is  my  brother  dead  ?" 

"  Be  still,  my  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  R.,  as  she  drew  the  pale  and 
trembling  girl  from  the  open  casement. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS    MEN.  275 

Mr.  R.,  li.'iving  prepared  liiinself,  went  out,  light  in  haiul,  to  ask 
the  soldier  in. 

"  I  have  but  a  fow  minutes  to  remain,  sir.  I  must  be  off  again 
to-night,  or  the  Yankees  may  catch  me,"  responded  the  young 
man  to  Mr.  R.'s  invitation  to  enter. 

•  "  But  you  will  have  time  to  come  in  and  warm  yourself,  and 
take  a  hasty  meal.  It  is  several  liours  to  day  yet.  Come  in,  sir; 
come  in." 

The  soldier  followed  Mr.  R.  into  the  sitting-room,  wiiere  the 
fire  was  still  burning  in  the  grate. 

"  I  have  a  letter  for  Miss  Mary  Lawrence.  Is  she  with  you, 
sir?"  said  the  soldier,  as  he  passed  through  the  hall. 

At  the  mention  of  her  name,  the  young  girl,  who  stood  within 
the  door,  stepped  forward. 

The  letter  was  handed  her.  She  tore  the  envelope  and  glanced 
at  the  name.     It  was  from  Charley. 

"And  is  he  dead?"  she  gasped  convulsively.  "This  is  wiit- 
ten  in  Tennessee,     Where,  oh,  where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  He  is  still  there." 

"  Oh,  do  not  deceive  me,  I  beseech  you.  Do  not  deceive  mc— 
tell  me  truly,  is  he  dead  ?"  and  the  young  girl,  unable  longer  to 
stand,  sank  on  a  sofa  beside  her,  and  with  ghastly  look  gazed  up 
into  the  young  man's  face. 

"  Who,  who  ?"  exclaimed  the  father,  mother,  and  sister  in  one 
breath.     "  Who  is  dead  ?  your  brother,  or — " 

"  Charley  !"  was  the  scarcely  articulate  reply. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  I  assure  you  he  is  not  dead,"  exclaimed  yonnjy 
Brent,  for  it  was  he,  faithfully  executing  the  pledge  intrusted  to 
him.  "  He  is  not  dead,  sir ;  I  left  him  quite  sick,  as  he  writes 
there  to  Miss  Lawrence ;  but  his  physician  assured  me  he  would 
recover." 

The  burdened  hearts  breathed  more  freely. 

"  Thank  God !  thank  God !"  exclaimed  the  mother,  tears  of 
grati  tude  streaming  from  her  eyes.  "  Thank  God !  my  boy  yet  lives  I" 

"  Be  seated,  sir,"  said  Mr.  R.,  conducting  the  young  man  to  the 
fire,  and,  drawing  up  a  large  arm-chair  before  its  genial  warmth, 
led  him  to  it. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spalding,  who,  when  aroused 
by  the  noise,  had  made  a  hasty  toilet,  descended  the  stairway  and 
entered  the  room. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Brent?"  said  Mrs.  Spalding,  ad- 
vancing, and  shaking  the  young  man's  hand. 


276  ,  KALDS    AKD   EOMANCE 

'*  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Lu  ?"  said  tlie  young  mtin,  rising. 

"  Let  me  introduce  to  you  Mr.  Spalding,  Mr.  Brent." 

"  Happy  to  see  you,  Mr.  Brent,"  said  Mr.  Spalding,  shaking 
ftands  with  the  soldier,  who  looked  at  him  a  moment  surprised. 

"Ah  me.  Miss  Lu,  I  understand.  Yes,  Charley  told  me  you 
were  to  be  married,  and  we  had  hoped  to  get  to  Louisville  to  the 
wedding." 

"And  where  is  my  brother,  Mr.  Brent?  isn't  he  with  you  V 

'•  He  was  not  well  enough  to  join  the  command  when  we  left 
Tennessee,  and  we  were  forced  to  leave  him  behind." 

"  Was  he  ill  ?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

"  Quite  sick  ;  but  liis  physician  assured  me  he  would  recover. 
He  had  fever,  and  was  unable  to  bear  the  fatigue  of  so  long  a 
trip." 

"  Had  he  been  long  sick,  Mr.  Brent  ?"  asked  the  mother. 

"  Only  a  few  days,  madam." 

"And  was  he  confined  to  his  bed  ?" 

"Yes,  madam.  The  physician  thought  he  needed  rest.  He 
had  been  taking  a  great  deal  of  exercise,  and  was  pretty  well  worn 
out.  Dr.  Lapsley,  who  is  a  most  excellent  physician,  will  stay 
with  him  until  he  recovers." 

"And  where  is  my  brother,  John  Lawrence,  now,  sir?"  said 
Mary,  as  she  folded  the  letter  she  had  just  finished  reading. 

"  I  left  him  with  Colonel  Duke,  near  Lexington." 

"And  will  he  not  come  to  Louisville  ?" 

"Yes,  if  we  take  possession  of  it;  but,  otherwise,  I  think  Col- 
onel Morgan's  men  will  be  retained  around  Lexington.  It  is 
rather  a  dangerous  experiment  for  us  to  come  alone  into  the  city. 
Oi.e  of  our  men  was  caught  in  the  streets  this  evening,  and  sent 
to  prison." 

"  Who  was  this  ?"  asked  Mr.  Spalding. 

"  Harry  Roberts,  sir,  of  Colonel  Morgan's  command.  It  seems 
Harry  had  a  sweetheart  that  he  was  determined  to  see,  so  he 
came  to  Louisville  at  all  hazards,  and  this  evening  some  Union 
man  recognized  him  on  the  streets,  and  he  was  immediately 
arrested.  I  took  warning  by  his  fate,  and  left  for  the  coun- 
try." 

•  Just  at  this  juncture  Mr.  Pw.  appeared,  followed  by  a  servant, 
bearing  a  large  waiter  of  nice  lunch,  which  was  placed  before  the 
young  man,  who  was  pressed  to  eat. 

Mary  stood  all  the  while  beside  the  lamp,  reading  and  re-read 
ing  the  letter,  the  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  and  all  ua- 


OF   MORGAJSr    AJSfJ)   HIS    MKN.  277 

conscious  of  the  presence  of  others.  Lilly  stole  to  her  side,  and 
whispered  : 

"Did  you  hear  that,  Mary,  about  poor  Harry  Roberts?  Isn't 
it  sad  to  think  he  should  come  to  see  Evangeline,  and  she  engaged 
to  be  married  to  another  ?     And  now  lie  is  in  prison — " 

'*■  In  prison,  Lilly,  where — how  ?  I  did  not  understand,"  said 
Mary,  looking  on  Lilly  abstractedly. 

"  In  prison  here  in  Louisville.  Came  to  see  Evangeline,  and 
was  arrested." 

"  Poor  Harry  !"  ejaculated  Mary.     "  Sad,  sad  fate  !" 

''I  will  go,"  said  Mary  to  herself,  as  she  folded  the  letter,  and 
replaced  it  in  the  envelope. 

"  Go  where,  Mary — to  prison  ?"  asked  Lilly,  with  surprise. 

"•  Oh,  nowhere,  Lilly,"  she  replied,  coloring  deeply. 

While  young  Brent  was  partaking  of  the  timely  cheer,  he  has- 
tily gave  to  his  anxious  listeners  a  brief  outline  of  the  Confederate 
movements  in  Kentucky  since  Colonel  Morgan  had  joined  General 
Smith  at  Lexington. 

*■''  I  must  go,^^  he  said,  rising  to  his  feet.  "I  wish  I  could  remain 
longer,  but  the  hours  are  swiftly  passing,  the  morning  will  soon 
be  here,  and  it  will  not  do  for  it  to  find  me  within  danger." 

Messages  were  sent  to  friends.  Thanking  them  for  their  kind- 
ness, he  bade  them  adieu  and  departed. 


278  EAIDS   AND   KOMANCE 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

UPBRAIDINGS. 

"Oh,  Evaugeline !  Evaugeline!  how  could  you  thus  deceive 
me!" 

"I  loved  liiin  from  my  childhood,  Edward,"  she  sobbed,  pas- 
sionately.    "  How  could  I  do  otherwise  ?" 

"But  you  have  promised  me,  Evangeline.  Look  at  this,  my  to- 
ken of  that  pledge." 

"  And  I  promised  him  long  yeafs  ago — when  we  were  children," 
she  replied,  looking  up  through  her  streaming  tears.  "Oh!  for- 
give me ;  forgive  me,  Edward  !  I  did  not  mean  to  do  so  !  But, 
Harr}',  you  know  I  have  loved  him  so  long;  and  now  he  is  in 
prison,  how  could  I  forsake  him  ?" 

"And  do  you  mean,  Evangeline,  to  prove  false  to  me  ?  Must  I 
understand  that  you  no  longer  regard  your  plighted  vows  ?" 

"Oh,  Edward  !  do  not  ask  me!  You  drive  me  mad  with  such 
questions!  I  am  wild!  wild! — my  brain  aches!"  she  exclaimed, 
looking  frantically  around  her. 

"You  must  answer  me,  Evangeline !  Will  you  marry  me  as  you 
have  promised  ?  You  know  the  day  is  appointed,  and  preparations 
are  already  commenced.  Surely,  you  will  not  now  decline?  you 
cannot,  for  our  position  demands  that  you  fulfil  your  engage- 
ment!" 

"Oh,  public  opinion  is  but  a  poor  solace  for  a  bleeding  heart, 
Edward  !  "When  our  hearts  are  breaking,  of  what  matter  is  it 
what  the  world  says  ?" 

"  But  you  do  not  mean  to  say,  Evangeline,  that  you  do  not  love 
me — that  you  hesitate  to  marry  me  ?  Am  1  to  tind  in  you  the 
fickleness  and  unfaithfulness  that  characterize  your  nature.  Re- 
member, you  have  given  your  word  to  be  mine — have  pledged 
yourself  to  marry  me.  This  is  known  to  the  world,  and  what 
will  the  world  say  if  you  fail  to  keep  your  word  ?  It  will  upbraid 
you  as  inconstant — full  of  whim  and  caprice,  and  cover  your 
name  with  reproach  !" 

"  Oh,    I  know  it  all,  Edward  !     Do  not — do  not  talk  to  me 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  279 

thus !  I  know  I  will  bo  called  foolish,  and  perhaps  I  ani.  I  may 
be  taunted  as  inconstant,  notional,  heartless ;  but  God  knows  I 
have  loved  truly,  faithfully.  Why  !  oh,  why  should  I  liave  ever 
forgotten  that  love!" 

"You  do  not  \o\eme^  then,  Evan<,'eline  ?  You  will  not  marry 
me  ?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  we])t 
bitterly. 

"  Answer  me,  Evangeline ;  I  will  not  be  thus  trifled  with  !"  and 
a  dark  scowl  gathered  over  his  face  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  her 
bowed  form.  Ilis  voice  was  severe  even  to  harshness.  She  felt 
it,  and  shuddered  as  she  did. 

''You  will  not  answer,  Evangeline?  Why  do  you  treat  me 
thus?  I  cannot  submit  to  it;  I  will  not  longer  endure  it!"  and 
he  sprang  from  the  sofa  and  paced  the  room  with  rapid  strides. 
Evangeline  still  wept  aloud. 

'"Great  God  !"  he  exclaimed,  passionately,  "  am  I  to  be  mocked 
thus  ?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  such  a  fate  ?  I  will  not  bear 
this  suspense  ;  she  shall  answer  me!"  and  he  stamped  his  foot  in 
his  rage;  then  strode  on  across  the  floor,  his  whole  manner  that 
of  a  madman. 

His  wrath  partially  exhausted  by  his  rapid  exercise,  he  threw 
himself  on  the  sofa  beside  her,  and  forcing  her  hands  from  her 
face,  exclaimed: 

"  Evangeline,  you  must  tell  me — and  tell  me  now  I"  She  started 
and  struggled  to  free  herself;  but  he  held  her  tightly  in  his  grasp. 
"Do  not  strive  to  go  from  me,  Evangeline.  This  question  must  be 
settled  now  and  forever."     She  looked  at  him  fiercely,  defiantly. 

"Loose  me,  Edward,  loose  me!  I  will  not  be  forced!"  All 
the  passion  of  her  nature  spoke  from  her  face.  "Loose  me,  and  I 
will  tell  you  all ;  but  you  cannot  extort  from  me  one  syllable.  I 
will  not  be  driven  !" 

The  young  man  dared  not  disobey.  The  inferior  one  always 
yields  to  the  superior.  He  relaxed  his  grasp,  and  sat  eyeing  her 
with  a  look  of  mingled  wonder  and  sternness. 

Evangeline,  nerving  herself,  drove  back  her  tears,  and  looking 
him  steadfastly  in  the  face,  said,  with  a  degree  of  calmness  quite 
surpriaing : 

"Edward,  I  have  loved  Harry  Roberts  from  my  childhood.  I 
love  him  still.  I  thought  when  I  promised  to  marry  you  that  1 
bad  forgotten  him  and  loved  you.  I  was  mistaken.  If  I  have 
wronged  your  heart — forgive  me,  oh,  forgive  me!  but  I  cannot 


280  KAIDS   AND   EOMANCE 

marry  one  I  do  not  love !  I  cannot  forsake  one  to  whom  luy  heart 
is  wedded,  now  that  he  is  in  prison  and  suffering!" 

The  noble  sentiment  of  the  noble  girl  fell  idly  on  the  ears  of 
young  Lasley.  He  understood  but  one  thing — that  Evangeline 
could  not  marry  him. 

"  Cannot  marry  me,  Evangeline  !  Is  this  your  decision  ?  Do 
you  forget  that  you  are  bound  by  a  solemn  promise  to  do  so?  You 
dare  not  break  that  promise;  I  cannot  release  you." 

"  And  why,  Edward  ?  you  do  not  love  me  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I  do  love  you,  and  I  intend  to  marry  you.  All  the 
world  knows  we  are  engaged,  and  I  do  not  choose  to  be  trifled 
with  thus.  This  passion  for  Roberts  will  soon  pass  aw\ay.'  Yoa 
only  feel  sorry  for  him  because  he  is  in  prison.  A  week  hence 
you  will  feel  and  think  differently.  I  will  give  you  a  week  to  de- 
cide, Evangeline,"  said  he  coldly,  as  he  arose  to  leave. 

"Oh  !  Edward,  I  want  not  a  week — not  a  day.  I  am  decided 
now.  I  tell  you  I  cannot  marry  you  while  I  love  another!  You 
ought  not  to  wish  me  to  do  it!  It  would  only  be  to  render  us 
both  miserable  forever.  I  tell  you  again  I  cannot  marry  you,  Ed- 
ward Lasley !" 

"You  shall  never  marry  Roberts,  then,  Evangeline!"  he  said, 
while  his  face  kindled  under  the  dark  working  of  his  fierce  pas- 
sion. 

"Then  I'll  never  marry!"  she  replied  determinedly. 

Scowling  with  the  fury  of  a  fiend  upon  the  girl  he  professed  to 
love,  he  replied  in  tones  of  bitter  retaliation: 

"  So  let  it  be !"  He  paused  a  moment  for  a  reply ;  but  with  tlie 
same  look  of  resolution,  Evangeline  sat  silently  gazing  upon  him. 

"Do  we  part  forever,  Evangeline?"  he  asked,  as  he  read  the 
meaning  of  her  heart  on  her  fixed,  unmoved  face. 

"Forever!"  she  answered. 

"Ah!  say  not  so.  There  is  a  future  for  me.  We  will  meet 
again,  Evangeline.  Then — then^  perhaps,  you  will  understand 
me!" 

As  he  finished  this  ominous  sentence  he  turned  from  her,  and, 
passing  out  through  the  hall,  left  the  house.  Evangeline's  heart 
stood  still,  and  her  cheek  grew  pale  as  those  threatening  words 
rang  on  her  ear.  She  could  meet  the  enraged  man  with  boldness 
as  he  stood  before  her  with  his  words  of  sarcastic  reproach  and 
bitter  taunt,  but  she  shuddered  with  fear,  as  a  feeling  of  mysteri- 
ous dread  took  possession  of  her  bosom. 

"  AYhat  can  he  mean?"  she  asked  herself,  as  she  revolved  his 


OF   MOKGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  281 

menacing  words  iu  her  mind.  "What  does  he  intend  to  do? 
Surely  he  does  not  couteuiplate  being  revenged  on  Harry — and  yet 
what  else  can  it  be?  His  words  were  so  dark,  and  he  looked  so 
fierce  as  he  spoke!  But  what  harm  can  he  do  him?  Harry  is  iu 
prison  and  beyond  his  reach.  But  he  is  a  Union  man,  or  professes 
to  be  one.  Would  he  use  this  power  against  him?  Ah  !  it  must 
be  that!  It  can  be  nothing  else.  But  what  can  he  do?"  she  ask- 
ed herself.  "Ue  can  have  him  sent  to  Catnp  Chase,  perhaps,  and 
kept  there.  Surely,  he  cannot  mean  to  take  liis  life;  and  if  he 
did,  how  could  he  accomplish  it?  He  could  not  shoot  him— he 
would  not  dare  do  this.  But,  pei^iaps,  he  could  hire  the  guard  to 
do  it.  Men  have  been  shot  down  iu  that  prison  without  provocation 
— one,  merely  because  he  looked  out  of  the  window  and  waved  a 
handkerchief  at  some  girls  who  were  passing.  Oh !  if  he  should  do 
this,  how  horrid  it  would  be!  'You  shall  never  marry  Roberts!' 
he  said.  He  must  mean  by  this  to  destroy  either  Harry  or  me. 
Fearful!  fearful!"  and  so  Evangeline  trembled  as  she  sat  there 
alone  on  the  sofa  in  the  silent  parlor. 

Long  she  pondered  the  last  words  of  Lasley — "  There  is  a  future 
forme;  we  must  nieet  again,  Evangeline.  Then — iAdw,  perhap.", 
you  will  understand  me!" 

"Harry  shall  be  saved!"  she  said,  half  aloud  to  herself,  as  she 
rose  from  the  sofa  and  sought  her  own  room. 


282  KAEDS   AND   EOMANCE 


CHAPTER  L. 


A    VISIT    TO    PRISON. 


Under  the  auspices  of  a  Union  lady,  a  friend  of  her  aunt,  Evan- 
geline obtained  permission  to  visit  the  prison  where  the  Southern 
men  were  kept,  on  the  day  following  the  remarkable  visit  of  Ed- 
ward Lasley.     • 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Evangeline,  attired  in  a 
plain  street  suit  of  green,  with  a  hat  trimmed  in  black  velvet,  from 
which  hung  a  veil  of  green  that  fully  concealed  her  features,  and 
bearing  in  her  hand  a  basket  of  cakes  and  fruits,  with  a  beautiful 
bouquet,  set  out  witli  Mrs.  Hanna  to  vi>it  the  prison  at  the  corner 
of  Green  and  Fifth  streets.  This  building  had  been,  before  our 
peaceful  people  had  learned  war,  a  medical  college;  but,  at  the 
commencement  of  hostilities  it  was  not  used  for  this  purpose.  The 
Abolitionists  of  Louisville,  ready  to  do  the  bidding  of  their  dicta- 
tor at  Washington,  decided  it  should  be  fitted  up  for  prisoners, 
and  accordingly  men  were  engaged  to  put  it  in  proper  condition 
for  this  purpose.  The  whole  building,  with  its  small  front  yard 
fronting  on  Green-street,  "was  rapidly  inclosed  by  a  high  plank 
fence,  and  barracks  were  erected  along  the  west  side  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  guard. 

It  was  a  novel  sight  to  the  people  of  Louisville  to  see  such 
preparations  in  their  midst.  But,  notwithstanding  the  opposition 
of  tiie  Southern  people,  who  believed  it  an  overthrow  of  all  con- 
stitutional right  to  imprison  men  for  opinion's  sake,  and  the  won- 
der of  Unionists  who  had  not  yet  grown  altogether  accustomed  to 
the  attempt  to  enslave  freemen,  the  work  went  rapidly  on  to 
completion  ;  and  the  citizens  saw  in  their  midsUa  large  building 
set  apart  for  the  incarceration  of  men  who  dared  to  maintain  the 
doctrine  that  the  free  people  of  a  sovereign  State  had  a  right  to 
decide  on  the  course  they,  as  a  free  and  independent  people, 
should  pursue. 

As  Evangeline  pursued  her  way  beside  Mrs.  Hanna,  from 
Broadway,  down  Second  street  to  Green,  and  thence  to  the 
prison,  she  found  the  streets  thronged  with  men,  discussing  the 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MKN.  283 

startling  events  of  tlie  day.  As  she  passed  tlie  cnstom-house,  on 
the  corner  of  Third  and  Green  streets,  and  slij)i)ed  in  to  ask  for  a 
letter  for  herself  and  aunt,  she  heard  a  gentleman  at  the  door  ex- 
claim, with  great  emphasis:  "Yes,  Bragg  will  come;  he  has  got 
the  start  of  Buell,  and  is  already  on  his  way  here,  and  we  have  no 
preparation  to  meet  him.  These  fortifications  they  are  erecting 
are  mere  child's  play — only  intended  to  deceive  the  people  into  a 
false  idea  of  security." 

She  started  as  the  language  fell  on  her  ear,  fearing  lest  some 
Soutliern  man,  in  the  gratification  he  felt,  had  so  far  forgotten 
himself  as  to  utter  ''  treasonable  sentiments.''''  She  looked  hur- 
riedly round,  and  found  to  her  relief  that  the  words  had  fallen 
from  a  known  Union  man;  of  course  there  was  no  treason 
there. 

As  she  passed  out,  she  paused  a  moment  to  ask  Mr.  McAllister, 
the  speaker,  when  General  Bragg  would  reach  Louisville. 

"  Be  here  in  a  few  days,  'Vangeline  ;  no  help  for  it,  and  then 
the  wretches  will  drive  us  all  from  our  homes,  and  burn  our  prop- 
erty." 

''Oh,  I  hope  not,  Mr.  McAllister,"  she  answered,  pleasantly; 
"  Southerners  don't  do  such  things,  1  believe." 

"  Yes  they  do  ;  greatest  outlaws  the  world  has  ever  seen — full 
of  revenge  and  the  devil." 

Evangeline  not  deeming  it  proper  to  make  any  further  remark 
to  the  excited  old  man,  bowed  and  hastened  to  overtake  Mrs. 
Hanna,  who  was  a  few  paces  in  advance. 

''  What  I  do  must  be  done  quickly,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
walked  rapidly  on.   *'' A  few  days  delay,  and  all  is  lost." 

Overtaking  Mrs.  llanna,  she  repeated  the  remark  of  the  old. 
gentleman. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mrs.  Ilanna?  Is  it  your  opinion  the 
Southern  army  will  reach  Louisville?" 

''Never,  never,  Evangeline.  They  wouldn't  dare  to  attempt 
the  thing.  Don't  you  know  General-  Nelson  is  fortifying  every 
day,  and  fresh  ^oops  are  arriving  every  hour.  Old  Mr.  McAllis- 
ter is  wild,  he  doesn't  know  what  he  is  talking  about — scared  to 
death.  I  sup[»ose." 

"  What  am  I  to  believe  ?"  asked  Evangeline,  mentally.  "One 
tells  me  Bragg  will  certainly  come.  The  next  moment  another 
says  it  is  impossible.  I  will  execute  my  plan,  anyhow,  and  then 
I  shall  have  nothing  to  fear." 

The  two  females  reached  the  pris(;n  gate,  and  were  about  to* 


i  . 


284:  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

enter,  when  the  guard,  a  burly  Pennsylvania  Dutchman,  presented 
his  b;iyonet  across  the  entrance. 

"  Where  is  your  pass  ?  You  cannot  go  in  witiiout  a  permit," 
he  said,  gruffly. 

Mrs.  Hanna  paused,  felt  in  lier  pocket,  and  produced  a  paper. 
The  man  turned  it  upside  down,  eyed  it  very  earnestly  for  a  few 
minutes,  wearing  all  the  while  a  look  of  great  wisdom,  and  then 
returned  it,  saying:  "All  right,  pass  in." 

Mrs.  Hanna  smiled,  as  she  replaced  the  remnant  of  a  gas  bill  in 
her  pocket,  and  Evangeline,  who  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  it,  and 
understood  what  it  was,  laughed  outright.  The  guard  looked 
amazed  and  somewhat  suspicious,  but  either  not  fully  understand- 
ing the  cause  of  the  ladies'  merriment,  or  j^erhaps  unwilling  to 
admit  his  ignorance,  allowed  them  to  proceed  without  further 
interruption.  At  the  door  they  encountered  another  armed 
man,  who,  bowing  politely,  asked  them  whom  they  wished  to 
see.  They  replied  they  desired  to  see  all  the  prisoners,  but  partic- 
ularly young  Roberts. 

"  You  can  see  Roberts,  ladies,  and  any  other  prisoner  you  may 
wish,  if  you  will  but  name  them;  but  you  cannot  be  allowed  to 
make  a  general  visit." 

"  We  will  see  Mr.  Roberts,  and  any  otlier  of  Morgan's  men  that 
you  may  have  here." 

The  soldier  called  to  one  of  the  attendants  of  the  prison,  and 
instructed  him  to  conduct  the  visitors  up  stairs  and  show  them  to 
young  Roberts. 

The  ladies  followed  the  old  man.  On  reaching  the  landing  they 
found  themselves  in  the  presence  of  several  men,  all  uniformed. 
.They  could  not  tell  whether  or  not  they  were  Southerners. 
Evangeline  thought  they  were,  and  eagerly  strained  her  gaze  to 
discover,  if  possible,  young  Roberts.'  The  search  was  fruitless. 
Only  strange  faces  peered  upon  her.  She  looked  round  for  her 
conductor — he  was  gone.  There  the  two  ladies  stood  uncertain 
what  to  do,  wondering  if  amid  that  crowd  they  were  to  be  left  to 
meet  the  prisoner,  Evangeline  trembled  at  the  thought,  and  the 
basket  she  held  in  her  hand  manifested  her  perturbation. 

At  length,  after  a  painful  suspense,  the  old  man  returned. 
Evangeline  looked  up  as  she  heard  his  voice.  Behind  him  was  a 
young  man  in  prison  garb.  She  thought  at  first  glance  it  was 
Harry,  aod  was  about  to  step  forward  to  n)ake  herself  known. 
But  looking  again  she  encountered  the  face  of  a  stranger,  a  hand- 
some man   of  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  who  bowed  and 


RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE  285 

moved  towards  them,  and  stood  a  moment  as  if  waiting  to  be  ad- 
dressed. 

"Walk  in  there,  hidies,"  said  the  conductor,  pointing  to  a  long 
room  tilled  with  benches  that  opened  on  the  landing. 

They  did  as  directed,  and  found  themselves  in  the  midst  of 
prisoners.  The  young  man  followed.  Entering,  tliey  bowed. 
Evangeline  knew  in  a  moment  that  those  before  her  were  Confed- 
erates, and  she  lifted  her  veil,  hoping  that  if  she  did  not  recognize 
Ilarr}^  lie  might  see  her  and  come  forward  to  her  relief. 

"  AVe  wish  to  see  Harry  Koberts,  one  of  ^[organ's  men,  who  was 
put  in  prison  a  few  days  since,"  said  Mrs.  Ilanna,  turning  to  the 
young  gentleman  who  stood  beside  her. 

''  Excuse  me,  ladies,"  said  the  young  man,  bowing  politely  ;  "  my 
name  is  Robertson,  and  I  was  told  some  ladies  wished  to  see  me. 
ril  speak  with  the  guard,  and  have  Roberts  sent  in." 

''And  so  some  ladies  do  wish  to  see  you,"  said  two  females, 
stei>ping  forward  from  their  seats  and  confronting  the  prisoner. 
He  looked  at  them  steadily  for  a  moment. 

"Aunt  Jane  and  Cousin  Flora!"  exclaimed  tlie  young  man  sur- 
prised, at  the  same  time  grasping  their  extended  hands  with  all  the 
warmth  of  his  ardent  nature.  "Why,  how  did  you  hear  I  was  in 
prison  ?" 

"  Dr.  Henly,  of  our  neighborhood,  was  in  the  city  when  you 
were  brought  in,  and  saw  you  taken  from  the  cars — he  recognized 
you,  having  seen  you  when  you  were  last  on  a  visit  to  us.  As  soon 
as  we  heard  it,  we  determined  to  come  and  see  you  ;  but  your 
Uncle  James  was  taken  sick  the  very  day  we  had  appointed  to  set 
out,  and  has  been  so  indisposed  ever  since,  that  we  could  not  leave 
him  until  yesterday." 

"  And  how  is  Uncle  James  now  ?" 

"Better;  we  hope  he  will  soon  be  well  again.  He  sent  you  a 
great  deal  of  love,  as  did  all  the  children,  and  says,  '  Don't  despair, 
you  are  in  a  good  cause,'  "  she  added,  in  a  whisper,  as  she  discov- 
ered the  eye  of  a  Lincoln  soldier  lixed  upon  her.  The  man  moved 
forward  and  took  a  nearer  position.  Mrs,  Richey  understood  the 
meaning,  and  quickly  changed  the  conversation  to  an  inquiry  for 
the  young  man's  health. 

"Pretty  good.  Aunt  Jane,  and  spirits  fine;  we  have  most 
excellent  company,  and  as  good  fare  as  rebels  deserve,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  I  am  gl;id  to  see  you  in  such  fine  spirits,  Samuel.  It  will  de- 
light your  Uncle  James  to  know  you  bear  your  fate  so  heroically. 


286  RAIDS    AXD   EOMANCE 

He  lias  been  greatly  distressed  since  lie  heard  you  were  here.  You 
know  you  are  his  favorite  nephew." 

"Tell  uncle  it  is  not  so  pleasant  as  meeting  the  enemy  on  the 
battle-field,  but  as  a  soldier  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  take 
whatever  chances  befall  me,  and  make  the  best  of  my  fate." 

"How  long  do  you  expect  to  remain  here,  Samuel?" 

''  Oh,  I  suppose  we  shall  soon  be  sent  from  here  to  Cainp  Chase, 
and  perhaps  we  shall  remain  there  until  the  war  ends.  Can't  tell; 
these  things  are  so  uncertain." 

Mrs.  Richey  looked  up  ;  the  guard  had  moved  back  to  allow  a 
young  Confederate  to  proceed  to  the  two  ladies  who  were  sitting 
beyond  her.  Seizing  the  opportune  moment,  she  leaned  forward 
as  if  to  pick  up  her  fallen  handkerchief.  "  Take  that,  Mr.  Richey 
sent  it.  Escape  if  you  can,  and  come  to  our  house."  She  slipped 
a  roll  into  his  hands,  which  the  prisoner  immediately  placed  in  his 
pocket.     The  whole  movement  had  escaped  the  eye  of  the  guard. 

''Harry!" 

"Evangeline!" 

It  was  all  the  two  lovers  could  say,  as  their  eyes  met.  Mrs. 
Hanna  rose,  -  expecting  Evangeline  to  introduce  her.  But  the 
young  girl  sat  still,  overcome  by  her  emotion.  Her  face  was 
crimson,  and  she  trembled  violently.  ]^o  endeavor  to  be  calm 
availed. 

Mrs.  Hanna  seeing  Evangeline  would  not  introduce  her,  intro- 
duced herself.  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Roberts,"  she 
said,  endeavoring  to  reheve  the  young  man's  embarrassment. 
"  Your  mother  and  I  were  schoolmates,  and  although  we  did  not 
meet  in  after  life,  I  have  always  remembered  our  girlish  associa- 
tion with  pleasure,  and  I  am  happy  to  meet  you  for  lier  sake, 
though  sad  to  see  you  in  this  place." 

At  the  mention  of  his  mother's  name  the  tears  started  to  his 
eyes.  Four  years  ago  she  had  been  laid  to  rest  beneath  the  green 
sod  in  the  family  burying-ground  in  the  country.  Harry  had  idol- 
ized her,  for  she  was  to  him  the  very  embodiment  of  all  goodness 
and  loveliness.  He  had  heard  but  the  day  before  that  his  father 
had  married  a  second  time,  and  this  thought  seemed  to  touch-  his 
heart  the  more  deeply. 

"  You  are  comfortable  here,  Mr.  Roberts,  I  suppose?"  remarked 
Mrs.  Hanna,  desiring  to  turn  the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

"  As  well  situated  as  I  could  expect  in  a  prison,  madam ;  but  it 
can  scarcely  be  styled  comfortable.  However,  I  wish  not  to  com- 
plain.    Soldiers  must  take  the  chances  of  their  profession." 


OF   MOliGAN   A:N'D    HIS   MEX.  2S7 

"  This  is  a  sad  and  horrid  war,  Mr.  Roberts,  and  untold  suffer- 
injT  must  yet  be  endnred  before  it  ends." 

*'  Yes,  madam,  war  is  the  most  dreadful  scourge  tliat  can  be  sent 
on  a  people,  and  this  war  of  wars  is  to  us  the  most  dreadful.  And 
it  will  become  more  and  more  so  the  longer  it  is  protracted.' 

"Only  in  one  way,  Mrs.  Ilanna." 

''And  what  is  that  ?" 

'"Acknowledge  the  independence  of  the  Confederacy!" 

"Oh,  that  will  never  be  done,  sir.  Jt  cannot  be  done,  for  it 
would  never  do  to  sever  this  great  and  glorious  Union." 

''The  Union  is  dissolved  already,  Mrs.  llanna,  and  force  of  arms 
will  never  reunite  it.  But  it  will  not  do  .for  me  to  discuss  this 
subject.  You  know  I  am  a  ])risoner  in  the  hands  of  my  enemy — 
an  enemy  who  thinks  that  to  diflEer  with  him  is  a  crime  worthy  of 
death." 

"How  did  you  know,  Evangeline,  that  I  was  here?  I  thought 
you  had  not  heard  it." 

""Mary  Lawrence  told  me,  Harry.  One  of  Colonel  Morgan's 
men  told  her — young  Brent,  I  believe.  1  heard  it  the  morning 
after  you  were  arrested,  but  they  would  not  let  me  come  until 
now."  She  spoke  very  low,  so  that  the  guard  who  stood  by  to 
overhear  their  conversation  might  not  catch  bur  words: 

"  Did  Brent  escape?" 

"  Of  course  lie  did,  or  he  would  be  here." 

"Oh  !  yes;  he  left  that  night,  and  I  suppose  got  back  safely,  as 
we  have  heard  nothing  from  him  since." 

This  conversation  was  conducted  in  a  low  tone,  and  as  Harry 
had  moved  his  seat  beside  Evangeline,  Mrs.  Hanna  did  not  under- 
stand it.  Observing  that  the  two  young  people  desired  to  inter- 
change some  words  privately,  she  engaged  the  guard  by  remark- 
ing: 

"  Rather  an  unpleasant  duty,  sir,  to  watch  here  ;  but  it  is  a  duty 
that  some  one  '  must  discharge.'  " 

"Oh,  yes,  mum,  as  a  soldier  I  have  to  obey  commands;  but  I 
would  a  great  deal  rather  be  in  the  field  than  here.  I  don't  like 
the  confinement  nor  the  business  of  keeping  men  in  prison.  But 
these  are  war  times,  madam,  and  the  regular  order  of  things  is  en- 
tirely changed." 

"  Harry,"  said  Evangeline,  while  this  conversation  was  pending, 
"  you  must  get  out  of  this  prison.  Here  is  my  purse — bribe  the 
guard  if  you  can!"  As  she  said  this,  she  drew  out  of  her  pocket 
a  small  purse  filled  with  gold,  and  slipped  it  into  Harry's  hand. 


RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

Scarcely  realizing  what  he  did,  sosurprised«was  he  at  Evangeline's 
words  and  act,  lie  took  the  purse  and  hastily  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

"In  this  bouquet,  Harry,  is  a  note.  If  you  find  you  can  carry 
out  the  plan,  be  at  the  second  window  on  Third-street  Sunday 
evening,  at  four  o'clock,  and  give  the  signal  mentioned.  Be  plain, 
distinct,  so  that  I  can  understand  you.  I  will  attend  to  the  rest. 
Understand,  Harry  ?" 

He  nodded  assent. 

"Be  careful;  don't  betray  yourself.  You  will  be  shot  if  you 
do!" 

Harry  gazed  at  her  in  wonder.  He  had  always  known  that  she 
was  resolute  and  fond  of  daring  deeds,  yet  excitable  and  frequently 
overcome  by  her  strong  emotion.  To  beluHd  her  so  calm,  collect- 
ed, planning  his  escape  from  prison,  wiis  a  manifestation  so  unex- 
pected he  was  filled  with  astonishment. 

"  Don't  look  so  surprised,  Harry ;  the  guard  will  suspect  you." 

"  Here,  Harry,"  she  said,  modestly,  as  she  saw  the  eye  of  the 
guard  fixed  upon  her,  "  is  a  bouquet  of  flowers.  You  allow  the 
prisoner  to  receive  flowers,  sir,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  looking  up  at 
the  man  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles.  "  Won't  you  have  some 
fruit,  sir?"  and  she  extended  the  basket  to  him,  while  she  handed 
the  flowers  to  Harry.  "  Those  apples  and  oranges  are  very  nice; 
do  take  some !" 

The  man,  bowing  politely,  reached  forward  and  took  an  apple. 

"Have  an  orange,  sir?" 

"No,  mum,  I  thank  you  ;  tliis  is  sufiicient." 

"  Won't  you  have  an  orange,  Mrs.  Hanna  ?" 

The  lady  declined. 

'•  Well,  Harry,  I  am  sure  you  will  not  refuse  me." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said. 

"This  young  gentleman  may  have  as  much  fruit  as  he  pleases, 
sir!     Good  for  his  health." 

"Oh  !  yes,  mum  ;  we  do  not  deny  the  prisoners  any  little  thing 
to  eat  that  their  friends  bring  them." 

"W^ell,  then,  Harry,  you  shall  have  it  all;  take  the  basket!" 

As  he  was  receiving  it,  she  leaned  forward  and  whispered,  "  Take 
the  note  from  the  bouquet ;  it  might  fall  out."  Then  turning  to 
the  guard,  she  asked,  in  order  to  distract  his  attention  : 

"Do  you  admit  ladies  every  day,  sir?" 

"  No,  mum  ;  only  on  Thursday  mornings." 

"  And  can  any  one  come  in  then  who  desires  to  ?  I  have  never 
been  here  before,  and  do  not  understand  fully  your  regulations." 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  289 

*'Any  one  who  lias  u  permit  can  come;  but  onr  orders  are 
t^trict,  and  we  cannot  allow  any  one  who  has  not  a  pass." 

Mr-;.  Hauria  K>oked  at  Evangeline  and  smiled. 

While  the  soldier  was  interesting  himself  to  instruct  Evangeline^ 
Harry  had  extracted  the  note  from  the  bouquet  and  thrust  it  down 
into  his  pocket  with  the  purse.  His  manner  was  nervous.  Evan- 
geline observed  it;  the  others,  unacquainted  with  the  young  man's 
manner,  did  not. 

Relieved  of  her  great  anxiety,  Evangeline  regained  her  natural 
vivacity,  and  chatted  with  Harry  and  the  guard  with  all  the  ease 
and  naivete  for  which  she  was  so  remarkable. 

Mrs.  Kichey  and  Flcfl-a  rose  to  leave.  Evangeline  looked  up  as 
they  did  so.     Recognizing  the  young  girl,  she  rose  to  meet  her. 

"  Why,  Flora!  when  did  you  get  to  the  city?  I  had  not  heard 
you  were  here.  Are  you  staying  at  your  Auut  Ludlow's,  and  will 
you  be  here  long?" 

Flora  answered  her  questions  and  then  introduced  Evangeline 
to  her  mother  and  cousin,  young  Peterson. 

Harry  Roberts  advanced  to  speak  with  her. 

*'Why,  Mr.  Roberts!  is  this  you?"  exclaimed  Flora.  ''I  am 
surprised  to  see  you  here.  I  tliought  you  were  with  Colonel  Mor- 
gan, near  Lexington!" 

"  And  so  I  was,  Miss  Richey,  and  ought  to  be  there  now.  But, 
anxious  to  see  my  friends  in  Louisville,  I  yielded  to  my  desires  and 
returned  home,  and,  in  an  evil  hour,  I  was  betrayed  by  one  whom 
I  thought  was  a  friend ;  and  now  I  am  here  en  route  to  Camp 
Chase.  You  know  '  the  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men  gang 
aft  aglay,'  Miss  Flora.  What  can't  be  avoided  must  be  submitted 
to;  and  it  is  as  much  a  part  of  a  soldier's  life  to  endure  hardships 
as  to  tight.  I  have  fought,  and  now  I  shall  bear  as  best  I  can 
whatever  is  imposed  upon  me." 

'•That  is  true  philosophy,"  replied  the  young  girl,  her  face  grow- 
ing animated  under  the  expression  of  such  sentiments.  "No  man 
is  a  hero  without  this  element  of  character.  We  must  learn  to 
suflfer  and  to  wait.  It  matters  but  little  where  we  are,  or  how  sit- 
uated, if  we  but  serve  the  great  cause  of  right." 

The  guard  standing  nearest  her  scowled.  Mrs.  Richey  touched 
her  warningly  on  the  shoulder. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Roberts.  I  hope  a  brighter  fate  awaits 
you.' 

^Evangeline,  come  to  see  me;  I  shall  be  in  the  city  but  a  few 
days  longer." 

13 


EAIDS    AND    EOilANCE 

"If  you  will  be  in  this  afternoon  at  five,  Flora,  I  will  call  then." 

"You  will  find  me  at  home  and  glad  to  see  you." 

Bidding  farewell  to  the  prisoner,  and  bowing  to  Mrs.  Ilanna, 
Mrs.  Richey  and  her  daughter  left  the  room. 

"Your  half-hour  has  expired,  mum,"  said  the  soldier  to  Evange- 
line, who  was  about  to  reseat  herself  beside  Mrs.  Il.inna. 

"Do  you  allow  us  only  a  half-hour  to  see  a  friend?" 

"Had  you  come  earlier  you  could  have  remained  longer,  but  our 
orders  are  to  have  no  company  for  the  prisoners  after  this  hour." 

""We  will  come  earlier  next  Thursday,  Mrs.  Ilanna.  It  seems 
to  me  we  have  been  here  but  a  short  time.  But  then,  all  is  so 
novel  to  me,  time  has  passed  quickly  by.  •You  will  allow  me  to 
come  in  next  visiting  day,  will  you  not,  sir?"  she  said,  turning  and 
addressing  the  guard.  "I  shall  wish  to  visit  my  cousin  as  often  as 
possible  before  he  goes  to  Camp  Chase." 

"  Oh,  cejtainh',  mum  ;  if  you  have  a  permit,  you  can  come  in. 
I  may  not  be  here  at  all  then  ;  I  am  expecting  every  day  to  be 
called  out  to  the  field.  You  know  the  rebels  are  marching  upon 
the  city,  and  we  shall  all  have  to  turn  out  to  defend  it." 

"Why,  do  you  think  General  Bragg  is  coming  to  Louisville?  lie 
will  not  be  ra>h  enough  for  that,  will  he?" 

"He'll  come  if  he  can,  mum.  It  is  our  business  to  prevent  him. 
I  scarcely  think  he  will  get  here;  but  these  rebels  are  a  determin- 
ed people,  and  no  one  can  tell  what  they'll  attempt." 

"'•  Very  true,"  responded  Mrs.  Ilanna,  "but  I  do  not  think  Bragg 
will  ever  reach  Louisville.  There  are  too  many  men  to  oppose 
him." 

"Good-by,  Cousin  Harry,"  said  Evangeline,  gayly.  "Keep  up 
your  spirits — 'tis  as  well  to  be  merry  as  sad.  You  know  what  un- 
cle always  says,"  and  she  bent  forward  and  whispered,  "Remem- 
ber Sunday  evening,  before  six  o'clock — get  out  if  possible,  or  you'll 
be  sent  to  Camp  Chase.     Pretty  good  h)gic,  isn't  it,  Harry?" 

"Oh,  very  fine,  and  it  shall  be  my  motto  for  the  future.  I  shall, 
undoubtedly  act  upon  it,  let  whatever  will  betide  me,  rest  assured 
of  that." 

Mrs.  Hanna  expressed  her  hope  that  the  young  man's  imprison- 
ment might  not  be  long,  but  that  an  exchange  would  soon  be  ef- 
fected in  his  behalf,  adding,  "I  have  a  son  in  the  Union  army,  Mr. 
Roberts,  and,  as  a  mother,  I  can  feel  for  you.  Good-morning,  sir. 
I  will  call  again  and  see  you,  and  if  there  is  any  thing  you  desire,  I 
will  bear  the  request  to  your  father." 

"Much  obliged  to  you,  madam.     The  superintendent,  Captain 


OF   MOKGAIJ   AND   HIS   MEN.  291 

Dillard,  kindly  furwnrded  a  nc»te  for  me  to  pa,  yesterday,  and  al- 
thougli  I  have  not  yet  liad  an  answer,  I  know  my  requests  will  be 
attended  to." 

Mrs.  Ilanna  and  Evangeline,  accompanied  by  the  guard,  who 
seeijied  to  be  quite  pleased  with  the  young  girl's  kind  and  fascinat- 
ing manner,  passed  out  into  the  entry.  On  the  landing,  they  en- 
countered Mr.  Roberts,  Harry's  father,  with  Captain  Dillard,  the 
Prison  Superintendent,  and  followed  by  a  servant  boy  bearing  a 
basket  of  clothing,  which  showed  from  its  tumbled  appearance  that 
it  had  been  very  unceremoniou>ly  examined  by  the  sentinel.  Evan- 
geline bowed  to  Mr.  Roberts  and  passed  on. 

Gaining  the  street,  she  bade  Mrs.  Ilanna  good-morning,  tliank- 
ing  her  for  her  kind  escort,  and  engaging  to  accompany  her  to  the 
prison  on  the  following  Thursday  morning,  and  proceeding  down 
Green-street,  past  the  hospital,  turned  into  Centre  and  pursued  her 
way  to  Market-street.  She  walked  up  Market  until  slie  reached 
the  Brook-street  market-house.  Discovering  here  a  Jew  furnish- 
ing store,  she  entered  and  examined  several  suits  of  dark  clothing. 
Finding  one  that  answered  her  purpose,  she  drew  forth  a  roll  of 
Kentucky  bills  and  paid  for  it:  ordering  the  merchant  to  send  it 
to  Mr.  Ludlow's  at  five  o'clock  that  evening  precisely,  she  turned 
to  leave. 

"To  whom  must  I  direct  it?" 

''Miss  Flora  Richey,"  she  replied  promptly.  "You  know  Mr. 
Ludlow's  residence,  do  you  ?  near  the  corner  of  Chestnut  and  Sixth, 
north  side." 

The  man  made  a  memorandum  and  placed  it  on  the  suit,  which 
he  had  laid  aside  on  the  shelf. 

On  her  return  home,  Evangeline  met  Mary  Lawrence. 

"  I  have  just  called  to  see  you,  Evangeline,  and  the  girl  told  me 
you  had  gone  to  the  prison  to  see  Harry  Roberts.  Is  that  true  ? 
You  haven't  been  there,  have  you  ?  "What  will  Ed.  Lasley  say, 
when  he  hears  you  are  visiting  your  old  sweetheart  in  prison? 
AVon't  it  arouse  his  jealousy  a  little?  You  know  he  is  a  Union 
man,  and  it  might  be  the  means  of  embittering  his  feelings." 

*'  Oh,  Mr.  Lasley  must  look  out  for  himself.  You  know  it  is 
my  duty — so  aunt  has  always  taught  me — to  visit  the  sick  and 
those  that  are  in  prison." 

Her  manner  was  so  full  of  meaning,  that  her  young  friend  could 
not  conceal  her  surprise. 

'•  Come,  Mary,  go  back  home  with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  all. 
You  know  I  was  engaged  to  Lasley,  and  asked  you  to  attend  me  ?" 


292  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

"  Was  engaged,  Evangeline!  ^Vliat  do  you  mean?  You  have 
not  broken  your  engagement,  have  you?  He  is  iu  town  now. 
Took  dinner  with  Mr.  Spalding  yesterday  at  Mr.  R.'s.  I  was 
present.  *  He  did  not  act  like  a  rejected  lover.  Was  gayer  and 
more  animated  than  when  I  met  him  befoi-e.  Have  you  seen  him 
since  ?'' 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him  last  evening,  and  for  the  last  time,  Mary." 

''  Why,  Evangeline,  do  explain  yourself.  Surely  you  are  trying 
to  hoax  me.  For  the  last  time  ?  You  haven't  discarded  him, 
have  you  V 

''Hush,  Mary,  yonder  he  comes,  now.  I  do  not  wish  to  meet 
him  again.  Look !  I  do  believe  he  reels.  Come,  quick,  quick, 
into  this  store,  and  Til  shut  the  door,  so  that  he  can't  see  us," 

The  two  girls  stepped  into  Mrs.  Le  Compte's  fancj'  store,  on 
Fourth-street,  and  immediately  closed  the  door.  Mrs.  LeCompte 
looked  up  from  behind  her  counter  rather  surprised. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Miss  Evangeline,  with  you  and  Miss  Law- 
rence this  morning  ?"  asked  the  shopkeeper,  looking  out  from 
under  her  nicely  plaited  French  cap-border. 

"  A  drunken  man,  Mrs.  Le  Compte,  and  I  am  so  afraid  of 
drunken  men,"  and  the  young  girl  held  tightly  to  the  door  knob, 
at  the  same  time  peering  curiously  out  into  the  street,^through  the 
glass  door. 

Just  then  young  Lasley,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  young  man 
whom  neither  of  the  girls  recognized,  passed  the  door.  His  face 
was  flushed,  his  eyes  red,  his  hat  slouched — his  whole  manner  evi- 
denced his  condition.  It  was  with  difficulty  his  friend  could  keep 
him  steady.  He  was  talking  in  an  earnest  tone,  and  Evangeline 
fancied  she  heard  him  say,  "And  I  will  be  revenged,  Nick,  see  if 
I  ain't." 

The  two  young  girls  looked  at  each  other  in  mute  wonder. 

"•  What  was  that  he  said,  Mary  ?  did  you  hear  him  ?"  whispered 
Evangeline. 

"Something  about  being  revenged,  I  believe  it  was,  I'could 
not  hear  distinctly." 

"I  thought  so,  Mary.  Ah,  I  know  what  he  means.  He  is 
threatening  Harry.  I  will  tell  you  all  when  I  get  home.  Look 
out,  Mary,  see  if  they  have  turned  the  corner  of  Market," 

"They  have  turned,  but  are  walking  out  towards  Main-street." 

"  We  can  go  then,  I  didn't  know  but  that  he  had  recognized 
me,  and  would  wait  until  we  came  out." 

The  two  girls  left,   and   pursued   their  way  rapidly  towards 


OF  MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  293 

Broadway.  Reacliing  the  house  of  her  aunt,  Evnnirellne  rang  the 
bell,  and  ordering  some  lemonade,  conducted  Mary  up  stairs  to 
her  own  room. 

Closing  the  door,  and  securing  it  so  that  there  might  be  no  in- 
trusion, the  two  girls  seated  themselves  on  the  sofa,  and  Evange- 
line told  Mary  all  that  had  occurred  the  evening  before  with  young 
Lasley,  and  of  his  threat  that  she  should  never  marry  Harry  Roberts. 

"I  do  not  know,  Mary,  whether  the  threat  was  against  me  or 
Harry.  He  may  take  my  lite  if  an  opportunity  should  oflfer.  I 
have  already  heard  that  he  possessed  a  violent  temper,  and  when 
once  excited  he  is  desperate.  But  I  never  realized  how  violent 
his  temper  was  until  I  saw  him  last  evening.  Why,  I  tell  you, 
he  acted  the  madman.  If  I  did  not  love  Hany  Roberts,  I  would 
uever  marry  him  now.     I  would  be  afraid  to  do  it." 

**  Well,  Evangeline,  this  is  all  very  strange  to  me,  wholly  unex- 
])ected.  When  I  met  you  this  morning,  I  sujjposed  you  had  been 
out  making  preparations  for  your  wedding.  You  know  everybody 
believes  it  is  to  take  place  on  the  10th  of  next  month.  I  have 
heard  it  half  a  dozen  times  since  I  came  in  this  morning.  Does 
your  aunt  know  your  decision  V' 

"  No  one  but  yourself  and  Ed.  Lasley,  and  he  doesn't  believe 
it.  He  said,  among  the  last  things  before  he  left,  that  he  would 
give  me  one  week  to  decide.  I  fear  to  tell  n)y  aunt.  This  is  the 
only  dread  I  have  on  my  mind.  If  she  but  knew  it  and  was  re- 
conciled to  it,  I  would  be  so  relieved.  But  my  aunt,  Mary,  is  so 
anxious  that  I  should  marry  Ed.  Lasley.  He  is  rich,  you  know, 
and  an  only  child,  and  will  doubtless  be  the  heir  to  his  old  maiden 
aunt's  fortune.  And  my  aunt  wishes  me  to  make  what  she  calls 
*'  a  handsome  establishment"  when  I  marry.  She  never  favored 
Harry  Roberts,  and  now  that  he  is  a  rebel,  she  would  be  more 
opposed  to  it  than  ever.  Oh,  I  dread  to  tell  her,  and  yet  I  must 
do  it.  I  will  never  marry  Lasley.  I  love  Harry,  have  always 
loved  him,  and  if  he  ever  gets  out  of  that  prison,  I  will  go  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth  to  marry  him.  He  is  brave,  noble,  honorable, 
Mary,  one  that  I  could  love  if  we  had  to  live  in  a  cottage. 
Wealth  does  not  bring  happiness,  Mary.  Look  at  Aunt  Cecilia. 
What  is  there  on  earth  that  she  desires,  that  she  does  not  have, 
and  yet  where  will  you  find  a  more  wretched  woman?  Her  fash- 
ionable friends  think  she  is  blessed  beyond  most  human  beings, 
and  no  doubt  many  of  them  envy  her  her  position.  But  could 
they  lift  the  curtain  and  see  behind  the  scenes,  how  differently 
would  they  feel  and  judge  1" 


294  RAIDS   AND  EOMAKCE 

"Your  views  are  correct,  Evangeline,  and  you  talk  quite  like  a 
pliilosopher.  Bui  have  you  considered  this  matter  well  ?  Do  you 
know  all  it  involves?" 

"I  have  considered  it  this  far,  Mary  ;  I  love  Harry,  and  I  do  not 
love  Lasley.  I  thought  I  did,  but  it  was  mere  fancy.  As  soon  as 
I  heard  Harry  was  here  in  prison,  I  felt  I  should  die  if  I  did  not 
get  to  see  him,  and  I  have  walked  by  that  prison  a  hundred  times 
in  the  last  two  days,  hoping  I  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  form. 
I  see  that  wealth  does  not  purchase  happiness,  and  I  choose  the 
latter.  And  besides,  Harry  will  have  a  maintenance,  and  a  hand- 
some one,  too,  if  this  war  leaves  Southern  people  with  any  thing; 
and  if  it  does  not,  why  I  will  love  him  still,  and  we  will  live  in 
poverty." 

"You  are  decided,  then,  Evangeline?" 

"I  am,  Mary." 

"But  do  you  not  think  it  may  be  sympathy  for  Harry,  rather 
than  love,  tliat  has  decided  you  thus?  May  you  not  change  your 
views  if  he  should  be  removed  from  you  again?" 

"Oh!  but  I  do  not  intend  he  shall  be  removed,  Mary,  unless 
they  take  him  to  Camp  Ciiase.  I  am  afraid  to  tell  you  what  I 
have  decided  to  do.  I  know  you  will  think  it  so  rash,  so  wild. 
But,  Mary,  you  know  I  have  but  few  in  this  world  to  love  me ;  no 
one*loves  me  as  Harry  does.  Aunt  Cecilia  admires  me  because  I 
afford  her  pleasure  and  draw  around  her  young  and  gay  society,  of 
which  she  is  very  fond;  and  then,  you  know,  she  has  no  child  of 
her  own  to  bestow  her  caresses  upon.  This  is  the  extent  of  her 
atfection  for  me.  But  Harry  would  lay  down  his  life  for  me, 
Mary ;  he  is  my  best,  my  truest  friend.  Why  should  I  not  cling 
to  him,  even  if  I  yield  up  every  thing  to  do  it?  Will  you  betray 
me  if  I  trust  you?  I  have  always  told  you  every  secret  of  my 
heart,  but  this  is  one  more  momentous  than  all  others.  Will  you 
promise  to  hide  it  away  in  your  own  bosom  and  never  speak  of  it 
to  any  one?" 

"  Have  I  ever  forgotten  my  trust,  Evangeline  ?" 

Just  then  the  servant  knocked  at  the  door  with  a  waiter  of  ice- 
cream and  cakes. 

Evangeline  rose  to  open  the  door. 

"No  lemons,  Miss  Vangy,  and  Miss  Cilia  told  me  to  bring  you 
some  cream  and  cakes." 

"  Very  well,  Emily ;  bring  it  in  and  put  it  on  the  stand,  and  tell 
aunt  I  am  much  obliged  to  her.  You  must  not  come  again  until 
I  ring  for  you." 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  295 

The  girl  passed  out  and  closed  the  door.  Evangeline,  throwing 
off  her  hat  and  taking  Mary's,  resumed  her  seat  besi^le  her  friend 
on  the  s<»ta, 

*'I  have  decided  to  do  this,  Mary:  first,  to  effect  Harry's  es- 
cape; and  then,  if  he  luis  to  leave  Kentucky,  to  go  with  hiui." 

*'But,  Evangeline,  how  are  you  to  accomplish  these  two  haz- 
ardous undertakings?  You  cannot  get  Harry  out  of  prison ; 
and  if  you  did,  how  will  you  get  through  to  the  Confederate 
lines?" 

'*Mary,  my  belief  is  that  any  thing  can  be  accomplished,  if  you 
only  determine  it  shall  be  done.  These  are  times  when  the  very 
foundations  of  society  are  moved,  and  what  would  be  regarded 
under  ordinary  circumstances  as  insanity,  will  pass  current  now 
for  heroism.  Many  females  in  every  age  have  dared  every  thing 
for  their  lovers'  sake;  why  may  not  I  do  the  same?  If  I  can 
once  get  within  the  Confederate  limits,  I  shall  have  nothing  to 
fear." 

"  But  how  is  Harry  to  escape  ?" 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know  that  he  will,  Mary ;  that  is  yet  to  be  tested. 
His  attempt  may  prove  successful;  it  may  not.  But  you  know 
several  have  escaped  from  that  as  well  as  from  other  prisons.  I 
do  not  see  why  he  cannot  do  so  too.  He  has  promised  me  he  will 
try." 

"You  saw  him  then  this  inorning  and  mentioned  it  to  him? 
How  did  you  find  an  opportunity  ?  I  have  heard  that  all  visitors 
are  so  closely  watched  by  a  guard  stationed  in  the  room  for  that 
purpose,  that  no  private  conversation  at  all  can  pass  between  them 
and  their  friends.'^ 

''  Oh,  I  whispered  to  Harry,  who  sat  beside  me,  while  the  guard 
was  talking  to  Mrs.  Hanna.  He  looked  suspiciously  upon  me  once 
or  twice,  but  I  paid  no  attention  to  it.  Moreover,  I  carried  Harry 
a  bouquet  of  flowers  that  had  a  note  concealed  in  it,  proposing  a 
plan  of  my  own,  and  this  I  gave  him  and  in  a  few  words  explained 
the  outline,  so  that  when  he  had  read  it  he  would  understand  wh.-i 
I  meant." 

"  Why,  Evangeline,  you  astonish  me  !  You  are  really  a  heroine. 
Who  could  have  thought  that  you — always  so  thoughtless,  so  gay 
— would  have  ventured  upon  an  experiment  so  full  of  danger  and 
requiring  so  much  thought  and  courage  ?" 

''Ah,  Mary,  love  is  a  powerful  incentive — a  great  teacher." 

"  And  did  you  consult  no  one,  Evangeline  ?" 

"Xo  one,  Mary;    I  have  told  no  one  but  Harry  and  you.     It 


296  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

most  be  kept  very  secret,  or  the  whole  thing  may  fail  and  Harry's 
life  be  the  forfeit."' 

Mary  sat  a  few  moments  absorbed  in  deep  thought.  Two  or 
three  times  she  looked  at  Evangeline  as  if  she  wished  to  tell  her 
something  she  dared  not  communicate,  and  then,  lowering  her 
eyes,  relapsed  into  thought  again. 

"Evangeline,"  she  said  at  length,  looking  up  through  her  curls, 
''you  have  confided  in  me;  I  will  confide  in  you.  I  need  not  ask 
you  to  keep  faithfully  what  I  tell  you  from  the  ears  of  every 
human  being.  I  know  that  under  the  present  circumstances  you 
could  not  divulge  it.  You  know,  Evangeline,  that,  like  you,  I  am 
pretty  much  alone  in  the  world.  All  my  relations,  save  my  father 
and  some  cousins,  are  in  the  South :  and  Charley  R.  is  there,  too, 
Evangeline — they  left  him  sick  in  Tennessee.  My  father  lias  gone 
through  to  Lexington,  and  I  am  left  alone." 

•'Has  your  father  gone,  Mary?  How  did  he  get  through,  and 
when  did  he  leave?     I  had  not  heard  a  word  of  his  going.*' 

"  Of  course  it  was  best  to  keep  it  secret.  He  has  been  gone  a 
week,  and  as  I  have  heard  nothing  from  him,  lam  led  to  hope  that 
he  has  reached  Lexington  safely.  He  went  from  here  to  a  friend's 
six  miles  out  in  the  country,  in  a  carriage ;  from  there  he  i)roposed 
to  get  forward  as  best  he  could.  Did  not  know  but  that  he  would 
have  to  walk  most  of  the  way." 

Mary  paused  as  if  uncertain  whether  to  proceed. 

"  And  do  you  propose  to  follow  your  tather  in  the  event  the 
Confederates  do  not  come  to  Louisville?"  asked  Evangeline,  un- 
derstanding the  cause  of  her  hesitation. 

'•  Yes,  Evangeline,  thfit  is  my  determination.  I  am  now  waiting 
to  see  what  will  be  the  issue  of  General  Bragg's  movements  as  re- 
gards this  city,  and  also  the  permanent  occupation  of  the  State. 
This  is  all  that  keeps  me  here  now.  Pa  said  he  would  send  for 
me  just  as  soon  as  it  was  decided  what  the  Confederates  would  do ; 
but  I  shall  not  wait  for  him  to  do  this,  if  General  Bragg  passes  into 
the  interior  of  the  State.  If  he  does  not  come  and  take  me,  I  will 
immediately  make  my  way  through,  lest  it  be  too  late  if  I  wait  for 
pa  to  send  some  one  for  me." 

"Was  Charley  very  sick,  Mary?  and  how  did  you  know  it? 
and  where  is  your  brother?     You,  of  course,  have  not  seen  him 

yet?';^ 

"I^o;  John  is  with  Colonel  Duke  at  Lexington.  Y(^ung  Brent, 
who  came  to  Louisville,  left  him  the  very  night  Harry  Roberts 
was  arrested  and  put  in  prison.     He  brought  me  a  letter  from 


OF   MORGAN    AMD    UIS   MEN.  297 

Charley,  and  came  all  the  way  out  to  Mr.  li.'s,  where  1  was  spend- 
ing a  few  days,  to  deliver  it  to  me." 

''And  how  was  Charley  when  Brent  left  him  V' 

"  Quite  sick  ;  had  tyi)hoid  fever,  but  his  physician  did  not  COQ- 
sider  his  case  dangerous,  lie  was  in  Tennessee,  not  far  from 
Knoxville,  in  a  private  house,  where  the  family  would  take  the 
tenderest  care  of  him.  The  physician  boarded  in  the  house,  so 
that  he  will  need  for  nothing  that  kindness  and  medical  skill  can 
afford.  But,  oh  !  Evangeline,  you  cannot  tell  how  miserable  I  am  ; 
I  fancy  all  the  time  he  is  dead  ;  dream  at  night  of  his  sufferings 
and  death  !  It  is  horrible,  this  agonizing  suspense.  I  ftel  at  times 
I  shall  go  mad.  And  I  cannot  hear  from  him!  It  will  be  weeks 
— perhaps  months — before  I  know  whether  he  is  dead  or  liv- 
ing." 

"Oh,  the  horrors  of  this  war,  Mary!  what  tongue  can  describe 
them?  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  the  suffering  we  have  yet  to 
endure.  Surely,  a  just  God  will  punish  these  Northern  fanatics  for 
the  misery  and  death  they  are  spreading  over  the  land  !  Yes,  a 
day  of  retribution  must  come  when  they  shall  be  made  to  feel  the 
curse  of  their  own  evil  doings.  I  sometimes  think  I  could  rejoice 
if  the  earth  would  open  and  swallow  them  up,  as  it  did  those  peo- 
ple of  old  that  Mr.  Young  preached  about  two  or  three  Sabbaths 
ago.  But,  Mary,  if  you  have  determined  to  go  to  your  father,  why 
cannot  we  go  together?" 

"Oh!  I  would  be  so  glad  of  your  company,  Evangeline,  and  we 
will  go  together  if  it  is  possible.  But  will  you  go  out  to  the  Con- 
federates if  Harry  is  sent  to  Camp  Chase?" 

"No,  Mary;  if  he  should  fail  to  escape  and  be  kept  here,  or  be 
forwarded  to  any  other  Northern  prison,  I  would  remain  here. 
You  know  I  could  but  be  miserable  in  the  Confederacy  where  I 
should  never  hear  from  him.  There  is  nothing  to  take  me  South 
but  Harry." 

"  How  soon  will  you — can  you — decide,  Evangeline  ?" 

"  In  a  few  days,  Mary.  I  can  let  you  know  on  Monday  morn- 
ing.    You  will  not  leave  before  then,  will  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  no !  General  Bragg  could  not  get  here  before  that  time. 
My  going  depends  on  his  movements.  I  shall  see  you  before  Mon- 
day. I  am  coming  to  town  again  Saturday  evening  to  stay  all 
night;  call  and  see  me  at  my  boarding-house." 

"  Oh,  come  and  stay  with  me,  Mary  !  Do  not  think  of  going  to 
your  room — so  lonely,  so  cheerless  it  must  be,  now  your  father  is 
gone!" 

13* 


298  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

•'Thank  you,  Evangie;  I  ^hall  be  compelled  to  remain  at  home 
to  make  some  preparations  that  will  be  necessary  if  I  leave." 

"Then  stay  with  me  to  day,  Mary." 

''Cannot  to-day.  I  came  in  with  Lu  and  Mrs.  Spalding,  and 
shall  have  to  return  with  them.  They  leave  at  two ;  it  is  now 
hnlf-past  one,"  she  said,  looking  at  her  watch.  "  We  will  meet  at 
church — but  you  come  to  see  me  Saturday." 

''  Very  well ;  I'll  do  so." 

Throwing  on  her  hat,  Mary  hastened  to  her  friends  at  the  ap- 
pointed place  of  meeting,  and  they  had  not  yet  arrived.  Stepping 
into  a  store  for  a  few  moments  to  buy  a  mourning  collar,  she  heard 
one  of  the  cleiks  remark  to  an  elderly  gentleman,  who  stood  in 
front  of  the  counter  examining  some  cassimere,  and  whose  face 
was  turned  from  her  so  tliat  she  could  not  see  it: 

"  Will  they  not  send  our  prisoners  across  the  river  before  Bragg 
can  get  here  ?" 

Slie  did  not  hear  the  gentleman's  reply  distinctly.  The  words, 
"  Harry,  haste,  and  pantaloons,"  met  lier  ear,  and  she  quickly  con- 
cluded that  it  must  be  Mr.  Roberts,  who  was  anxious  to  get  suit- 
able clothing  prepared  for  his  sou,  before  he  should  be  sent  to 
Camp  Chase. 

Ordering  one  pair  of  pantaloons  cut  off  and  trimmed,  the  old 
gentleman  then  asked  for  some  pocket-handkerchiefs.  In  turning 
to  look  after  the  clerk,  who  proceeded  to  the  front  of  the  store, 
Mary  caught  a  glance  of  his  features.  It  was,  as  she  had  supposed, 
Harry's  father.  Ah,  how  sad  was  that  usually  mild,  genial  face! 
AY  hat  an  expression  of  sorrow  haunted  the  deep,  gray  eyes  and 
rested  around  the  mouth  I 

'•  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Roberts?"  said  Mar}',  as  cheerfully  as  she 
could,  advancing  towards  him  and  offering  her  hand. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  intently. 

"  Why,  I  did  not  recognize  you  at  first,  Mary.  How  do  you  do? 
You  look  changed,  my  child,  in  your  mourning  dres>.  How  is 
your  father?  I  have  not  seen  him  for  several  days.  I  used  to 
meet  him  almost  daily.     I  thought,  perhaps,  he  had  gone  from  the 

city." 

'•He  has,  Mr.  Roberts,"  replied  Mary,  lowering  her  voice.  "Pa 
left  several  days  since  to  join  the  Confederates  at  Lexington." 

"He  is  not  g<'ing  into  the  army,  child,  an  old  man  as  he  is!" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Roberts,  in  astonishment. 

''Ko,  sir;  but  he  desires,  in  the  event  the  Confederates  have  to 
leave  Kentucky,  to  go  out  with  them,  and  he  felt  the  surest  way 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  299 

to  secnre  liis  object  was  to  get  into  their  Hues  while  the  army  w;is 
stationary." 

''  Ail,  I  wisii  I  could  go,  Mary.  But  they  have  got  poor  Harry 
here  in  prison,  and  I  could  not  leave  hira.  Too  bad  tliat  he  should 
have  run  So  much  risk  to  see  us  and  be  caught.  "VTe  did  not  get 
to  see  him  before  he  was  arrested.  He  had  been  in  town  but  a' 
half  Ijour  when  an  old  schoolmate  of  his,  a  Union  spy,  met  him 
and  recognized  him,  and  had  him  immediately  put  in  prison." 

"And  haven't  you  seen  him  at  all,  Mr.  Roberts?" 

"Yes,  this  morning  for  a  siiort  time,  just  long  enough  to  ascer- 
tain wiiat  he  needs  to  make  him  comfortable.  He  left  all  his  clothes 
at  Lexington,  putting  on  the  worst  he  had  to  avoid  detection.  I 
am  out  trying  to  get  him  clothing  ready  before  he  is  sent  to  Camp 
Chase." 

"Have  they  decided  to  send  our  men  there  ?" 

*' I  don't  know  that  they  have;  but  of  course  they  will  do  it  if 
there  is  any  certain  promise  that  Bragg  will  get  here.  I  would 
not  be  surprised  if  ihey  were  ordered  otf  to-morrow  morning." 

Mary's  heart  beat  quickly  as  she  listened  to  these  words.  "  Poor 
Evangeline — poor  Harry!"  she  said  to  herself.  "Wouldn't  it  be 
too  dreadful  if  they  should  send  him  away!  Oh,  poor  girl,  her 
heart  would  break,  she  is  so  sanguine  now  of  his  escape.  I  wisii 
I  could  go  and  tell  her  what  I  have  heard.  But,  then,  what  good 
would  result  from  it?  She  could  not  communicate  with  Harry, 
even  if  she  knew  it,  and  the  dread  would  only* be  a  source  of  mis- 
ery." 

"Have  you  been  long  waiting,  Mary?"  said  Mrs.  Spalding,  en- 
tering the  store  and  laying  her  hand  on  her  shoulder.  "  Why,  how 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Roberts?  I  did  not  observe  it  was  you  ;  the  room 
is  so  dark  after  coming  out  of  the  bright  sunshine.  And  how  is 
Harry?     I  suppose  you  have  seen  him." 

"He  is  well  and  in  fine  spirits,  poor  fellow.  He  bears  his  im- 
prisonment like  a  hero.  Where  is  Charley  ?  I  did  not  ask  for 
John,  Mary ;  I'suppose  they  are  both  with  Morgan  at  Lexington  ?" 

"Charley  was  left  very  sick  in  Tennessee,  Mr.  Roberts.  Was 
wholly  unable  to  come  with  his  command  into  Kentucky.  Had 
typhoid  fever." 

"Indeed  1  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  And  did  John  stay  with  him? 
I  know  they  have  always  been  great  friends  fnjm  their  boyliood." 

"  No,  Mr.  Roberts,  my  brother  came  into  Kentucky  with  Colonel 
Morgan,  and  is  ncnv  near  Lexington.  Pa  expected  to  meet  him  as 
soon  as  he  reached  there." 


300  KAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

'•  Colonel  Morgan,  with  a  portion  of  h\s  command,  have  been 
sent  out  to  intercept  General  Morgan's  retreat  from  Cumberland 
G.-ij),  Harry  told  me.     Is  your  brother  in  that  expedition,  Mary?" 

'•Indeed,  I  do  not  know,  sir.  Mr.  Brent,  one  of  Morgan's  men, 
who  was  in  Louisville  a  few  days  ago,  told  me  that  John  was  with 
Colonel  Duke,  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  Lexington,  and  was 
well.  This  is  the  only  intelligence  we  have  had  from  him  since  the 
Confederates  entered  the  State." 

"Mr.  Spalding  is  waiting  for  us  at  the  door,  Mary." 

The  two  bade  Mr.  Roberts  good-by,  and  seating  themselves  in 
the  carriage,  drove  out  into  the  country. 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  301 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Wart  had  scarcely  left  Evangeline's  room  before  her  aunt  sent 
up  Emily  to  tell  her  young  mistress  to  come  to  her  room  for  a  few 
minutes,  as  she  wished  to  see  her. 

''What  does  Aunt  Cecilia  want  with  me,  Emily?'' 

"  Indeed  I  don't  know,  Miss  'Vangy.  She  told  me  to  make 
haste  ;  had  sumthin'  of  importance  to  tell  you." 

Evangeline  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  Her  heart  foreboded 
evil.  Smoothing  her  hair  and  taking  off  her  basque,  she  descended 
the  stairway  and  sought  her  aunt's  room. 

"Evangeline,"  said  Mrs.  Terrant,  "every  thing  is  in  such  con- 
fusion here,  I  have  decided  to  go  to  Indianapolis  for  a  few  days, 
and  shall  leave  this  evening  on  the  cars.  You  must  get  ready 
immediately.  Emily  will  pack  your  trunks  while  you  go  out  with 
me  to  do  a  little  shopping,  Emily,  tell  the  cook  to  have  dinner 
on  the  table  as  soon  as  she  can,  and  Henry  must  have  the  car- 
riage at  the  door  in  half  an  hour.  Your  uncle  cannot  go  with  us, 
so  we  shall  have  to  take  care  of  ourselves.  You  know  we  should 
not  dare  to  take  Emily  or  Pauline.  We  no  doubt  shall  have  a 
pleasant  visit.  It  will  at  least  be  a  recreation,  and  we  can  remain 
until  the  fate  of  Louisville  is  sealed.  God  grant  it  may  never  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  rebels,  though  it  looks  as  if  it  might.  Mr. 
Knott  told  me  there  was  some  danger  of  such  a  disaster,  and  I 
heard  a  gentleman  remark  that  the  authorities  had  ordered  every 
thing  valuable  to  be  removed  to  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and 
the  prisoners  to  be  sent  to  Camp  Chase.  They  seem  to  be  pre- 
paring for  Bragg." 

"But,  come,  Evangeline,  we  have  no  time  to  discuss  these  mat- 
ters now.  You  had  better  go  to  your  room  and  take  out  such 
clothes,  Evangeline,  as  you  wish  to  carry  with  you.  Do  not 
leave  any  of  your  valuables  behind.  Use  three  trunks  if  neces- 
sary." 

"  Dinner  is  ready,  mistress,"  said  Pauline,  appearing  at  the  door 
of  Mrs.  Terrant's  room. 

"Well,  come,  Evangeline,  we  will  take  our  dinner;  you  will 
then  have  time  to  select  such  clothing  as  you  propose  to  take. 


302  liATDS   AXD   EOMANCE 

Come,  we  will  not  wait  for  your  uncle,  to-day.  It  is  a  half-hour 
earlier  than  he  usually  comes  here." 

Evangeline  mechanically  followed  her  aunt  to  the  dining-room. 
She  had  not  once  essayed  to  speak.  Her  aunt  attributed  her 
tiilence  to  her  unwillingness  to  go  on  account  of  her  approaching 
marriage,  and  accordingly  said,  as  soon  as  the  servant  had  left  the 
room  : 

'"Yon  must  write  a  note,  Evangeline,  to  Mr.  Lasley,  postponing 
your  marriage  at  leaj>t  one  month.  Perhaps  he  may  call  in  this 
evening.  He  has  not  been  here  to-day,  has  he  ?  You  had  better 
write  the  note  as  soon  as  dinner  is  over.  I  will  tell  your  uncle  to 
have  it  handed  to  him,  if  he  has  not  left  the  city  ;  and  if  he  has,  to 
have  it  forwarded  without  delay  to  Bardstown.  Matters  are  in 
such  a  confused  condition  now,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
make  preparations  for  any  thing  of  the  kind.  Invite  him  to  visit, 
you  at  Indianapolis;  and  if  you  choose,  you  can  marry  him 
there." 

Evangeline  sat  like  some  one  petrified.  Her  heart  was  burst- 
ing with  fear  and  anxiety.  How  could  she  reheve  herself  from 
this  dreadful  position  ?  She  could  not  leave  Louisville,  that  was 
impossible.  But  what  valid  excuse  could  she  offer  to  her  aunt 
for  desiring  to  stay  ?  Once  she  thought  she  would  acknowledge 
all,  and  throw  herself  on  her  aunt's  clemency.  But  she  could 
not  do  this.  It  would  be  to  ask  too  great  a  favor.  And  then  she 
remembered  her  aunt's  antipathy  to  Harry  Roberts,  and  her  utter 
dislike  to  all  secessionists.  She  dared  not  make  the  appeal,  so 
she  sat  still  and  silent,  her  heart  beating  violently.  The  color 
came  and  went  in  her  cheeks,  and  the  tears  would  rush  up  to  her 
eyes,  but  she  would  force  them  down  again  and  endeavor  to  ap- 
pear unmoved. 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  be  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  your  visit^ 
Evangeline,"  said  Mrs.  Terrant,  ''  I  thought  you  would  be  de- 
lighted to  have  a  short  respite  from  this  ruinous  excitement.  For 
my  part,  I  am  almost  dead.  I  do  not  believe  I  could  live  unless 
I  can  escape  from  it  awhile.  If  I  find  Indianapolis  in  such  a  tu- 
mult, I  shall  leave  mj  lister's  and  go  into  the  country,  to  some 
quiet  village,  if  such  a  place  can  be  found." 

"Indeed,  aunt,  I  do  not  wish  to  go,"  said  Evangeline,  summon- 
ing all  her  resolution  for  the  fearful  task.  "Do  let  me  stay  with 
Uncle  Terrant,  and  keep  house  for  him  while  you  are  gone.  I 
will  get  Mary  Lawrence  and  Mrs.  Davy  to  stay  with  me." 

•'  Why,  Evangeline,  don't  you  wish  to  go  ?     What  strange  freak 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  303 

has  come  over  you  ?  You  are  usually  desirous  to  travel.  And 
who  will  go  with  me?  I  cannot  go  alone;  never  travelled  by  mv- 
self  in  all  my  life.  But  why  don't  you  wish  to  go,  Evangeline? 
Wliat  reason  can  you  have  for  desiring  to  stay  here  ?" 

''Oh,  aunt,  I  could  not  leave  Louisville  now.  I  like  the  excite- 
ment. It  would  take  my  life  to  have  to  go  and  stay  among  the 
Yankees  now.     You  know,  Aunt  Cecilia,  I  never  did  like  them." 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  trouble  yourself  about  the  Yankees  ;  you  >liall 
not  be  annoyed  by  them." 

*'But,  aunt,  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  this  once.  If  it  were 
any  other  time  in  the  world,  1  should  take  pleasure  in  accompany- 
ing you.  Let  Uncle  Terrant  go  with  you,  and  then  he  can  return  ; 
and  if  you  desire  it,  I  can  come  out  as  soon  as  the  fate  of  Louis- 
ville is  decided.  Won't  you  excuse  me  this  time,  dear  aunt,  and 
allow  me  to  stay?"  said  Evangeline,  most  coaxingly,  quite  reas- 
sured by  the  kind,  considerate  manner  in  which  her  aunt  received 
her  refusal. 

••  I  do  not  wish  to  force  you,  EvangelincT,  but  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  you  with  me." 

'*  Oh,  aunty,  you  will  have  company  enough  when  you  get  there. 
Your  nieces  will  go  with  you  wherever  you  wish,  and  they  are 
most  charming  society,  you  know.  I  will  pack  all  your  trunks 
while  you  are  down  town,  and  will  insure  that  Uncle  Terrant  will 
go  with  you.  Had  you  not  better  take  most  of  your  silver,  aunt? 
or  will  you  leave  it  all  ready  packed  to  be  sent  across  the  river 
as  soon  as  it  is  ascertained  that  the  Confederates  will  certainly 
reach  here?" 

*•  I  believe  I  will  leave  it,  Evangeline.  It  would  be  a  great  bur- 
den to  me  to  take  it  with  me,  and  you  will  keep  it  in  readiness  to 
be  moved  at  any  moment,  won't  you  ?" 

*' Indeed  I  will,  aunty.  It  shall  be  the  first  thing  attended  to 
by  me  to-morrow.  I  will  have  it  all  nicely  rubbed,  and  securely 
])Ut  away." 

*•  Get  my  bonnet  and  mantle,  Pauline,"  said  Mrs.  Terrant  to 
the  girl,  as  she  arose  from  the  table.  "Evangeline,  put  all  my 
best  dresses  in  one  trunk,  with  my  jewelry  and  velvet  cloak,  and 
till  another  with  plainer  wear,  and  yet  another  with  undercloth- 
ing. Pauline  and  Emily  must  do  the  packing — you  supervise.  I 
shall  leave  for  Jell'ersouville  at  half-past  four  o'clock." 

'•  Oh,  I  will  have  every  thing  ready,  aunt,"  said  Evangeline, 
gayly,  feeling  as  light  as  a  fairy. 

Leaving  a  few  directions  with  the  servants,  Mrs.  Terrant  then 


304  KAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

tlirew  on  her  bonnet  and  silk  mantle,  and  drove  down  the  street 
to  shop. 

Evangeline  npplied  herself  most  energetically  to  the  task  before 
lier.  Wardrobes,  drawers,  boxes,  were  robbed  of  their  contents 
to  fill  the  three  ponderous  trnnks,  that  stood  open  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  awaiting  their  filling.  Evangeline  had  scarcely  begun 
operations  before  her  Uncle  Terrant  came  in. 

"  Heigh-day,  Evangie,  ain't  you  and  your  aunt  ready  to  be  off 
yet?  Oh,  this  trunk-packing — what  a  nuisance  to  the  world !  I 
don't  see  what  women  want  wMth  such  an  interminable  quantity 
of  clothing,  anyhow.  Come,  come,  make  haste,  you  will  not  be 
ready  in  time.  "We  must  cross  the  river  at  precisely  half-past 
four." 

"  Go,  Emily,  tell  cook  to  bring  in  uncle's  dinner  directly. 
Here,  uncle,  come  lie  down  on  the  lounge  and  rest.  I  want  to 
talk  with  you  awhile,"  and  Evangeline  prepared  the  pillows  in 
her  sweetest  manner,  and  drew  down  the  shade  at  the  head  of  the 
couch,  so  that  the  light  would  not  fall  too  glaringly  on  the  mer- 
chant's face. 

"  Now,  uncle,  I  have  a  little  kindness  to  ask  of  you,"  said  Evan- 
geline, with  one  of  her  charming  smiles,  as  she  threw  her  aunt's 
large  plaid  shawl  over  his  shoulders,  and  smoothed  back  his  hair 
from  his  forehead. 

"And  what  is  it,  child?"  asked  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  gentle 
tone.  ' 

Evangeline  knew  her  uncle's  heart  was  all  right.  He  had 
called  her  "child,"  with  him  the  most  endearing  epithet,  and  so 
she  knelt  beside  hiln,  and  said  : 

"  Uncle,  I  do  wish  you  would  go  with  aunty  to  Indianapolis, 
to-night.  Now,  won't  you  just  for  my  sake,  uncle?  I  cannot 
leave  Louisville  now,  and  you  know  she  cannot  travel  by  herself. 
And  aunty  is  so  worn  out  with  the  excitement,  she  really  needs  a 
little  rest — and  then  her  heart  is  so  bent  on  going.  I  shall  have 
to  go,  if  you  don't,  and  stay  there  with  the  Yankees  until  aunty 
gets  ready  to  come  home  again.  And  I  would  sooner  be  in  Fort 
Warren  ;  for  then  I  wouldn't  be  annoyed  by  them,  you  know.  I 
•never  did  like  the  Yankees.  I  would  so  much  rather  stay  with 
you.  Now  won't  you  go,  just  for  me?"  and  Evangeline  stroked 
back  the  silver-threaded  hair,  and  patted  her  uncle's  cheek  most 
caressingly." 

"  Oh,  my  child,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  go,  I  am  so  busy.  Heels 
over  bead,  scarcely  time  to  draw  my  breath ;  large  government 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS    MEN.  305 

contract — must  be  attendetl  to,  and  it,  keeps  me  so  busy,  busy, 
busy!" 

''Hut  you  will  soon  be  back  a^ain,  uncle.  Only  one  day  and 
night,  and  the  relaxation  tVnni  business  will  do  you  good.  I  am 
sure  it  will,  and  then  I  shall  keep  such  a  nice  house  for  you.  I 
am  to  be  your  housekeeper  while  aunty's  gone  !  You  didn't  know 
that,  did  you  ?  And  you  r«hall  have  such  good  cottee  every  morn- 
ing, and  such  excellent  dinners  just  wlien  you  please,  and  nice 
lunch  at  your  store  every  day  at  eleven,  and  music  in  the  evening 
to  drive  away  care  and  trouble,  and  every  thing  pleasant  and 
nice.  Now,  won't  you  go  ?  Oh,  I  am  sure  you  won't  say  no, 
uncle!" 

''  Oh,  you  women  !  Evangie,  you  women  !  How  you  do  have 
every  thing  your  own  way  !  There  is  no  managing  you  at  all.  Ko 
wonder  popr  old  Adam  fell,  if  Eve  was  half  as  persuasive  as  you 
women  are  now-a-days.  I  am  most  outrageously  busy,  but  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  have  to  go,  just  to  please  you,  for  your  aunt  is  bent 
on  the  trip,  and  somebody  must  go  with  her.  But  what  will  you 
do  to-night?     You  can't  stay  here  alone." 

'•  Oh,  never  mind  me,  uncle,  I  can  take  care  of  myself  to-night. 
I  am  going  round  to  Mrs.  Ludlow's,  to  stay  with  Flora  liichey,  a 
friend  of  mine  from  the  country.  Oh,  I  am  so  delighted  you  will 
go !  And  when  you  get  back  to-morrow,  you  shall  have  every 
thing  so  nice,  and  all  your  own  way,  and  you  shall  see  what  a 
good  housekeeper  I'll  be.  But  there  is  Sarah  to  tell  us  dinner  is 
ready.  I  had  you  a  good,  strong  cup  of  tea  made.  I  thought 
you  would  enjoy  it  this  chilly  d>y.  Walk  in,  uncle,"  and  Evan- 
geline assisted  her  uncle  to  rise,  and  led  him  to  the  dining-room. 

During  dinner  she  chatted  away  so  gayly,  and  attended  to  Mr. 
Terrant's  wishes  with  such  a  pleasing,  fascinating  manner,  that 
that  gentleman  began  to  feel  that  he  had  made  quite  a  good 
arrangement  in  retaining  Evangeline  during  her  aunt's  absence, 
even  though  it  should  cost  him  some  present  inconvenience. 

With  no  child  of  his  own,  it  was  but  natural  that  the  uncle 
should  lavish  his  love  on  his  young  and  interesting  niece.  Evan- 
geline was  the  only  child  of  an  only  sister,  who,  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen, had  married  a  Frenchman  of  some  means,  and  who,  imme- 
diately after  the  marriage,  had  taken  his  young  wife  to  Pwouen, 
his  native  city,  where  misfortune  after  misfortune  beset  them, 
until  they  were  finally  left  in  very  limited  circumstances. 

When  Evangeline  was  four  yeari  of  age.  Monsieur  Lenoir  died. 
His  widow,  gathering  together  as  best  she  could  the  remnant  of 


306  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

her  bnsband's  property,  returned  with  her  daughter  to  America. 
Two  short  years  found  Evangeline  an  orphan,  in  charge  of  her  only 
remaining  relative,  Mr.  Terrant.  She  brought  as  her  dower  a  few 
liundred  dollars,  which  her  mother  had  scrupulously  preserved  for 
her,  and  which  Mr.  Terrant  immediately  placed  at  interest  for  the 
benefit  of  his  niece,  when  she  should  marry  or  become  of  age.  She 
was  adopted  into  his  own  family,  and  always  regarded  by  him  as 
his  own  child ;  and  although  a  man  of  extensive  business  and  of 
few  words,  yet  he  had  found  both  time  and  means  to  make  Evan- 
geline feel  that  she  was  beloved  by  him. 

"I  must  go  to  the  store,  child,  and  make  my  arrangements," 
said  Mr.  Terrant,  as  he  rose  from  the  table. 

"And  I  shall  tell  aunt  you  will  be  back  in  time  to  go  with 
her,"  she  said,  as  she  followed  him  into  the  hall,  holding  to  his 
hand. 

"Yes;    I  will  be  here  with  a  hack  precisely  at  four  o'clock. 
Have  every  thing  ready,  Evangie,  so  that  there  will  be  no  delay." 
"Oh,  yes,  th;it  I  will.     Every  thing  shall  be  aufait  in  time." 
Just  as  Mr.  Terrant  was  about  to  place  his  hand  on  the  door- 
knob to  go  out,  the  bell  rang.     Evangeline,  stepping  back  to  the 
parlor  door,  paused  to  see  who  it  was.     Mr.  Terrant  opened  the 
door,  and  there  stood  revealed  the  form  of  Ed.  Lasley.     Evange- 
line caught  a  glimpse  of  it,  and  with  one  bound  rushed  into  the 
parlor.     This  was  the  only  way  of  escape.     As  she  stood  there 
trembling,  scarce  knowing  what  to  do,  she  heard  her  uncle  say: 
"  How  do  you  do  to-day,  Mr.  Lasley  ?     Walk  in,  sir." 
"Is  Miss  Lenoir  in?"  the  young  man  asked,  as  he  moved  for- 
ward to  enter  the  hall. 

"Yes,  she  is  at  home,  sir;  walk  in,  walk  in." 
The  young  man  entered  the  hall,  and  encountering  Pauline,  who 
had  gone  to  answer  the  bell,  said : 

"  Tell  Miss  Lenoir  Mr.  Lasley  wishes  to  see  her  in  the  parlor." 
"I  will  go  and  see  if  rho  is  in,  sir." 
"  Oh,  yes  she  is  ;  Mr.  Terrant  has  just  told  me  so." 
Evangeline  waited  to  hear  no  more.     Frightened  at  the  idea  of 
encountering  the  man  who  had  threatened  her,  and  whom  she 
saw  on  the  street  but  a  few  hours  before  in  such  a  disgusting 
plight,  she  sprang  into  the  back  parlor  throu/^h  the  ojjen  door, 
and  gaining  the  door  that  led  into  the  hall,  stood  trembling  with 
alarm.     As  soon  as  she  heard  the  step  of  the  young  man  in  the 
parlor,  she  glided  across  the  hall  into  the  dining-room,  and  from 
thence  she  gained  her  aunt's  chamber,  where,  locking  the  door 


OF   MOEGAJf   AND   HIS   MEN.  307 

beliind  lier,  slie  threw  herself  on  the  couch  near  the  window  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  liandti. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Miss 'Vangy?"  asked  Emily,  who  was 
busily  eng.igt'd  packing  one  of  the  three  large  trunks  with  her 
mistress's  .^ilk  dresses  and  laces.  "  You  look  scared  to  death,  Miss 
'Vangy — pale  as  a  ghost  I" 

A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door, 

"Oh,  do  not  let  any  one  come  in,  Emily  !"  said  Evangeline,  her 
voice  tremulous  with  fear.     "  Keep  the  door  locked,  do!" 

"It's  only  Pauline,  Miss  'Vangy;  don't  you  hear  her  voice?" 
and  Emily  turned  the  key  and  admitted  her  before  the  frightened 
girl  could  command  her  not  to  do  it. 

"Mr.  Lasley  wants  to  see  you  in  the  parlor,  Miss  'Vangy,"  said 
Pauline,  as  she  approached  the  bedside,  and  stood  over  her  young 
mistress,  who  had  not  yet  dared  to  look  up.  "  Here  is  his  card, 
mam." 

The  young  girl  started  up.  "Tell  him,  Pauline,  that  I  cannot 
see  hiin  ;  I  am  engaged  making  preparations  to  go  to  Indianapolis 
to-night." 

The  servant  bore  her  young  mistress's  message  to  the  parlor,  and 
soon  returned  with  one  from  young  Lasley. 

"Mr.  Lasley  says  he  must  see  you.  Miss 'Vangy  ;  he  cannot 
leave  the  house  until  he  does.  He  has  something  important  to  say 
to  you,  and  he  must  see  you  now,  directly." 

"Pauline,  tell  Mr.  Lasley,"  said  the  young  girl,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot,  yet  with  her  eye  fixed  steadily  on  the  servant  that 
stood  awaiting  her  bidding,  "  that  I  cannot  see  him  this  evening; 
it  is  impossible.  Then  do  you  come  here  and  finish  putting  your 
mistress's  clothes  in  that  trunk.  It  is  now  almost  three  o'clock, 
and  every  thing  must  be  in  readiness  in  a  half-hour." 

"What  did  he  say,  Pauline?"  asked  the  young  girl,  nervously, 
as  the  servant  returned  from  the  delivery  of  her  last  message  to 
the  visitor  in  the  parlor. 

"He  says  he  is  going  to  stay  here  until  he  does  see  you.  Miss 
'Vangy ;  that  he  won't  move  one  step  until  you  come  into  that 
parlorV' 

"  Then  he  will  weary  of  waiting,"  said  the  young  girl  to  herself, 
as  sht;  rose  from  the  couch  and  proceeded  to  attend  to  her  aunt's 
jewelry. 

"Lock  that  door,  immediately,  Pauline,  and  come  here  and  re- 
move these  things  from  the  two  drawers  to  that  large  black  trunk 
by  the  washstand.     And  you  and  Emily  make  all  the  haste  you 


308  RAIDS   AND   EOMANCE 

can.  Yon  have  bnt  little  time;  the  hack  will  be  here  at  fonr,  and 
they  must  not  be  kept  waiting.  This  carpet-bag  leave;  I'll  at- 
tend to  it  myself.  Hand  me  those  rubbers  ;  they  must  go  in  it. 
Put  those  dresses  and  those  mantles  in  very  smoothly,  Emily  ;  and 
Pauline  roll  those  underclothes  very  tightly." 

Evangeline  having  secured  her  aunt's  jev^^elry  and  attended  to 
the  important  carpet-bag,  threw  herself  on  the  lounge,  where  she 
could  superintend  the  operations  of  the  two  girls.  Her  face  was 
crimson ;  her  heart  beat  tumultuously,  and  her  temples  throbbed 
violently  ;  yet  she  felt  she  must  nerve  herself  to  the  task,  cost 
what  it  might.  What  she  had  undertaken  must  be  accomplished, 
and  time  was  pressing. 

As  she  lay  there  she  could  occasionally  hear  across  the  hall  the 
footsteps  of  young  Lasley,  as  he  moved  about  the  parlor.  Every 
time  this  noise  reached  her  ears,  she  started  up  and  looked  towards 
the  door.     Once  she  heard  him  step  out  into  the  hall — 

"Thank  God!  thank  God!  he  is  going!"  she  said  to  herself, 
and  suppressing  her  breath  and  ordering  the  two  servants  to  be 
silent,  she  waited  in  torturing  expectation  for  the  hall  door  to  open. 
But  the  young  man,  after  walking  to  the  front  door  and  looking  out 
through  the  side-lights,  returned  to  the  parlor  and  resumed  his  seat. 

"Why  don't  you  go  in  now,  Miss  'Vaugy,  to  see  Mr.  Lasley? 
Me  an  Emily  can  tinish  these  trunks  in  time.  And  you  see  he  is 
not  going  until  he  does  see  you." 

"Attend  to  your  own  busines>,  Pauline,  and  finish  those  trunks! 
I  do  not  wish  to  see  Mr.  Lasley  this  evening,  and  do  not  intend  to 
do  it." 

"Oh!  if  he  should  remain  here  until  my  aunt  returns  !  What 
shall  I  do?  I  cannot  explain  this  thing  to  her  now,  and  she  will 
be  all  curious  to  know  about  it.  Oh,  I  do  wish  he  would  go ! 
What  a  simpleton  to  be  sitting  up  there,  thinking  he  will  force  me 
to  come!  I  wouldn't  go  into  that  parlor  now  if  I  suffered  death 
for  it!  Half  an  hour  he  has  been  here  already;  he  must  possess 
sjme  patience  to  set  up  there  all  that  time  alone." 

"This  trunk  is  as  full  as  it  will  hold,  Miss  'Vangy." 

"And  have  you  put  in  all  the  handsome  dresses,  and  the  man- 
tles, and  aunt's  velvet  cloak?" 

"Yes,  mam," 

"Well,  set  it  to  one  side — help  her  there,  Pauline — and  then  go 
up  stairs,  Einily,  and  look  in  my  room  and  bring  your  Mi=s  Cecilia's 
large  travelling  shawl  and  that  cloth  cloak;  she  may  wish  them 
both.     Go  the  back  way." 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  309 

AGT.'iin  Evun^'C'liiie  heard  tlie  footfall  in  the  hall,  and  again  she 
started  up  and  listened  breathlessly.  The  younjr  man  repeated  the 
same  act  of  going  to  the  door,  peeping  out,  and  then  returning, 
walked  into  the  parlor  and  strode  across  the  room. 

'*IIe  is  growing  restless,"  said  Evangeline  to  herself.  "lie  will 
go  after  awhile;  another  half-hour!"  and  she  again  took  out  her 
watch  to  consult  the  time.  "Another  half-hour  and  his  patience 
must  be  exhausted.  God  grant  he  may  leave  before  my  aunt 
comes!" 

Fifteen  minutes  more  had  passed.  The  trunks  were  ready  for 
strapping.     Again  the  footfall  was  heard  in  the  hall.     It  passed. 

"  Thank  God — thank  God  !  he  is  gone  at  last!"  exclaimed  Evan- 
geline, as  she  heard  the  hall  door  open.  Siie  sprang  to  the  window 
to  see  him  pass  out.  She  waited  a  moment,  wondering  why  he 
did  not  descend  the  steps.  She  heard  the  door  close.  "Now  he 
is  gone,  surely !"  She  pressed  her  face  against  the  glass  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  figure;  a  moment  more  and  she  heard  the  same 
detested  footfall  enter  the  parlor.  Looking  towards  the  front  gate, 
she  discovered  her  aunt  alighting  from  her  carriage! 

"What  shall  I  do!  what  shall  I  do!"  she  said,  wringing  her 
hands  in  agony.  "There  is  aunty,  and  that  simpleton  is  still  in 
the  parlor !  What  will  she  say  when  she  learns  he  has  been  here 
an  hour,  and  I  have  not  been  in  to  see  him  ?  I  have  a  great  mind 
to  go  in  now — no,  I  won't.  He  shall  not  conquer  me  by  his  rude- 
ness. Maybe  he'll  have  sense  enough  to  keep  quiet,  and  aunty 
will  be  in  such  haste  that  she  will  not  find  out  he  is  here.  She 
has  onlv  fifteen  minutes.  Oh,  what  will  those  fifteen  minutes  de- 
velop!'' 

"Unlock  that  door,  Emily,  and  open  the  hall  door,  and  tell  aunty 
as  soon  as  she  comes  in  that  all  her  trunks  are  ready.  Pauline,  go 
and  bring  those  packages  from  the  driver.  Did  you  leave  room 
for  them  in  the  brown  trunk?" 

"Yes,  mam!" 

"All  things  ready,  Evangie?"  said  Mrs.  Terrant,  bursting  into 
the  room.  I  have  but  fifteen  minutes.  Your  uncle  will  be  here 
in  that  time  with  a  carriage,  and  he  says  I  must  not  keep  him  wait- 
ing a  moment.  He  is  going  with  me,  he  told  me.  Bring  my  large 
shawl,  Emily." 

"Here  it  is,  aunty,  and  your  cloak  too." 

"I  shall  want  them  both.  I  will  wear  the  cloak,  and  Mr.  Ter- 
rant can  take  the  shawl  on  his  arm.  I  shall  need  it  to-night.  The 
whole  town  is  in  an  uproar,  Evangeline,  about  General  Bragg's 


310  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

corning.  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad  I  am  getting  away  from  it.  I  should 
go  crazy  to  stay  here  a  week  longer.  Here,  Evangeline,  you  put 
these  things  in  the  trunk,  will  you,  where  they  won't  get  mashed. 
There  are  soine  ruches  and  flowers  in  that  box ;  I  could  not  get  my 
bonnet  trimmed  in  time,  so  I  bought  the  materials  and  will  have 
it  done  in  Indianapolis.  Shop-keepera,  milliners,  mantua-makers 
— everybody — are  beside  themselves.  If  you  had  seen  Mr.  Lasley 
I  would  take  you  with  me  just  as  you  are,  and  let  your  trunks  be 
sent  after  you.  Tell  him,  Evangeline,  that  the  marriage  must  be 
postponed  a  month,  until  all  this  noise  and  confusion  are  over.  It 
would  be  impossible  to  give  you  a  wedding  under  such  circum- 
stances." 

'•Sit  down,  aunty,  and  rest  a  moment;  you  look  so  flurried.  You 
are  ready  now." 

"Every  thing  in  the  trunks?  "Well,  th.en,  strap  them,  and  tell 
Harry  to  take  them  out  to  the  front  gate.  Did  you  put  me  up  a 
snack,  Evangeline?     I  may  not  get  any  supper." 

"  Ni) ;  but  I  can  in  a  moment." 

*'  Some  bread  and  cheese,  child,  and  some  of  that  cold  ham  with 
a  few  pickles.  Where  is  my  palm  fan?  I  may  need  it.  I  be- 
lieve it  is  in  the  parlor;"  and  Mrs.  Terrant  rose  from  her  seat  to 
get  it,  as  no  servant  was  present  to  wait  on  her. 

Evangeline,  who  heard  her  words  and  saw  her  movement  through 
the  open  door,  bounded  into  the  room — 

Oh,  aunty,  do  sit  still !  I  will  get  it  for  you.  See,  your  col- 
lar is  on  wrong  side  out;  change  it,  while  I  get  the  fan." 

She  was  about  to  cross  the  hall  to  encounter  young  Lasley  in 
the  parlor,  when  Emily  came  in  from  assisting  Henry  with  the 
trunks." 

"  Aunt's  palm  fan,  Emily,  in  the  parlor — not  a  word  for  your 
life!" 

"  It's  in  the  back  parlor,  Miss  'Yangy;  I  saw  it  there  when  I 
cleaned  up  the  room  this  morning." 

''  Get  it  quickly — not  a  word  about  Mr.  Lasley !     Do  you  hear  ?" 

*' Yes,  mam,"  replied  the  girl,  whose  wonder  was  every  moment 
increased  by  her  young  mistress's  strange  movements. 

Evangeline  hastened  to  the  dining-room,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  Sarah,  the  cook,  soon  returned  with  a  nice  package  of  edibles, 
which  she  deposited  in  her  aunt's  travelling  basket. 

"There's  your  uncle  with  the  carriage.  Write  me,  Evangeline, 
at  least  three  letters  a  week — and  don't  forget  to  tell  Mr.  Lasley 
about  the  postponement.     And  attend  to  the  silver.     Emily,  you 


OF   MOEGAJSr   A^'D    HIS   MEN.  311 

and  Pauline  do  what  your  Miss  '  Vangie  tells  you,  and  behave  your- 
selves." And  Mrs.  Tenant  walked  rapidly  out  into  the  hall,  fol- 
lowed by  her  niece  and  the  two  servants. 

"  Oh  !  will  he  come  out?"  asked  Evangeline  to  herself.  ''  If  he 
will  only  stay  a  few  moments  longer,  all  will  be  safe." 

But  the  young  man,  who  knew  full  well  how  kindly  Mrs.  Terrant 
had  treated  him,  was  determined  to  retaliate,  if  possible,  on  the 
young  lady  who  had  left  him  waiting  one  long,  weary  hour  to 
catch  a  gUmpse  at  her  person. 

And — oh,  horrors! — -just  as  Mrs.  Terrant  stepped  into  the  hall 
from  the  room  door,  he  issued  from  the  opposite  one  and  bade  her 
and  Evangeline  good-evening,  and  taking  his  hat  from  the  rack, 
proceeded  to  accompany  them  to  the  carriage. 

''  Evangie  has  told  you  that  I  am  going  to  Indianapolis  to-night, 
Mr.  Lasley?     Scared  away  by  the  Confederates." 

''Tills  is  the  first  glimpse  I  have  caught  of  Miss  Evangie  this 
evening,  Mrs.  Terrant." 

"  Oh  I  but  a  short  time  in,  and  Evangie  has  been  so  busy." 

"■Have  been  in  the  parlor  an  bour  and  twenty  minutes." 

The  aunt  looked  at  ber  niece  wi>nderingly.  The  girl  colored, 
but  made  no  reply. 

''  Found  Evangie  very  busy  this  evening,  Mr.  Lasley  ?  But  I 
suppose  she  has  had  time  to  say  all  that  was  neceamry ^''  remarked 
Mr.  Terrant,  jocularly. 

"I  have  just  this  moment  seen  her  for  the  first  time,  Mr.  Ter- 
rant," rei)lied  the  young  man  surlily. 

The  uncle  cast  a  penetrating  glance  on  Evangeline.  The  rose 
on  her  cheek  blushed  itself  to  crimson.  She  was  about  to  say  to 
her  uncle  that  she  had  been  so  busy  as  to  prevent  her  appearance 
in  the  parlor;  but  conscience  interfered  and  saved  her  the  sin  of 
prevarication,  and  smiling  a  forced  smile,  she  remained  silent. 

"Evangie  is  very  tired  now,  Mr.  Lasley,  and  I  know  cannot 
prove  interesting;  so  you  had  better  take  a  seat  with  us  and  drive 
down  to  the  hotel,"  and  Mr.  Terrant  placed  the  packages  so  as  to 
give  the  young  man  a  comfortable  seat.  ''We  have  not  a  momen*' 
to  lose ;  it  is  now  four  o'clock,"  said  Mr.  T.,  consulting  his 
watch.  ''  Come,  Mrs.  Terrant,  let  me  assist  you  in ;  and  you,  Mr. 
Lasley." 

The  aunt  hade  Evangeline  farewell,  whispering  in  her  ear  as  shv 
kissed  her,  "  Don't  forget  to  speak  to  Mr.  Lasley  about  the  post- 
ponement," and  stepped  into  the  carriage.     The  young  man  hesi 
tated. 


312  EAIDS    AND    KOMANCE 

"  Just  as  well  ride,  Mr.  Lasley,"  said  Mrs.  Terrant  as  she  dis- 
covered his  pause. 

Turning  to  Evangeline  he  said,  "I  shall  call  and  see  you  at  six. 
Where  shall  I  find  you  ?" 

"  Not  at  lionie,"  was  the  low  reply. 

"  Very  well !"  he  remarked,  mistaking  her  answer,  and  putting 
his  foot  in  the  step,  entered  and  closed  the  door. 

"Good-by,  my  child;  I  shall  be  back  to-morrow,  without  an 
accident,"  called  out  her  uncle  as  the  carriage  drove  ott'. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  313 


CHAPTER  LII. 

EXCITEMENTS  — DISAPPOINTMENTS. 

EvANGF.LiNE  hastened  t()  her  f»\vn  room.  Closing  the  door,  slie 
threw  lierself  on  the  bed  and  gave  way  to  tlie  pent-np  excitement 
of  the  day  in  a  flood  of  weeping.  It  was  the  outbreak  of  the  tem- 
pest that  had  been  silently  gathering  together  its  mighty  ftjrces. 
She  wept  long  and  bitterly  as  she  thought  of  all  she  had  endured 
— all  she  must  yet  meet ;  and  as  she  looked  out  upon  the  responsi- 
bilities of  the  coming  two  weeks,  she  shuddered  and  recoiled  as 
one  who  contemplates  a  fearful  doom.  How  strange,  how  wildly 
strange,  to  her  was  her  present  position !  She  who  had  been  the 
petted  child  of  fi»rtune — who  had  lived  so  dependent  on  others,  and 
who,  hedged  about  by  kind  protection,  had  never  felt  otherwise  than 
safe  from  all  danger,  free  from  all  care  !  It  was  the  turning-point 
in  her  life.  She  had  now  assumed  to  act  for  herself,  was  about  to 
cut  adrift  from  the  old  moorings  and  launch  out  on  an  unknown 
sea.  Should  she  succeed,  was  the  question  she  asked  herself;  for 
she  did  not  for  a  moment  swerve  from  her  purpose. 

''  It  is  for  Harry,"  she  said  ;  "  and  whether  or  not  I  am  success- 
ful, I  must  make  the  attempt.  For  his  sake  I  will  encounter 
every  obstacle,  endure  every  trial,  meet  every  reproach.  He  is 
worthy  of  all  this  on  my  part,  and  I  shall  not  show  myself 
unworthy  of  him.  If  I  accomplish  my  purposes,  I  secure  my  hap- 
pjpess  for  life  ;  if  I  fail,  I  have  done  my  duty — all — all  I  could — 
and  this,  poor  as  it  is,  will  be  some  consolation  to  me  amid  ray 
grief  and  helplessness.  If  I  do  not  marry  Harry,  I  shall  have  to 
marry  Lasley.  My  aunt  is  determined  on  it.  But — no — I  cannot 
do  it!  Rather  than  do  this,  I  will  forever  immure  myself  in  a 
convent,  where,  shut  out  from  the  world,  I  can  cherish  my  own 
sorrows,  indulge  my  lifelong  grief.  Oh,  should  Hairy  fail  to 
Cijcape  !  should  he  be  shot,  or  die  in  prison  !  Then — then — what 
then  !  God  grant  he  may  get  out  safely  !"  she  ejaculated  aloud, 
as  the  thought  of  his  death  swept  through  her  mind. 

"A  life  of  dark  trial  mine  has  been.  Fatherless,  motherless — 
no  brother,  no  sister — an  orphan  alone  in  the  wide  world.    And 

14 


314  RAroS    AND    PwOM^VNCE 

yet  my  uncle  and  aunt  liave  been  kind  to  me — but  tliey  could  n<it 
lo^e  me  as  my  poor  mother — they  could  never  under^jtand  my 
heart  as  she  could  have  done.  Oh,  no  one  can  love  us  like  a 
mother — none  enter  into  our  joys  or  sorrows  as  she — none  forgive 
like  her  own  tender  heart.  Alone,  alone,  I  have  been — alone, 
alone,  I  am  now.  None  truly  loves  me  but  Harry,  and  he  loves 
me  with  all  my  faults;  he  knows  them  all,  and  loves  me  still!  and 
shall  I  not  risk  every  thing  for  him  ?  dare  every  thing  to  remove 
him  from  the  hands  of  his  cruel  enemies  ?  Yes,  yes,  if  I  perish  in 
the  attempt,  I'll  try  it !  I  will  not  shrink  now,  that  dangers  seem 
to  surround  me  on  every  side ;  I'll  nerve  this  heart  of  mine  to 
bear  all  things,  that  I  may  accomplish  my  purpose!"  and  she 
sprang  from  tlie  bed,  and  dashed  away  her  tears,  her  large  black 
eyes  flushed  with  the  fires  of  her  invincible  resolve. 

The  clock  struck  the  half-hour. 

"I  must  not  weep  now — no  time  for  tears]  Action,  action, 
demands  my  thoughts,  my  time,  my  efforts.  I  have  a  great  work 
to  perform,  and  I  must  lay  aside  my  grief — 'tis  but  a  weakness  to 
weep,  when  duty  calls  to  exertion.  Five  o'clock,  and  I  must  be 
at  Mrs,  Ludlow's.  What  if  my  plan  should  be  discovered  ?  But, 
no  !  this  cannot  be — they  will  think  it  a  mistake  of  the  shopman. 
But  I  will  be  there  in  time." 

Throwing  back  her  hair,  Evangeline  bathed  her  face  until  the 
throbbing  of  her  brain  was  partially  allayed,  then  combing  the 
rich  masses  of  her  black  hair,  she  changed  her  dress  for  a  dark 
blue  silk,  and  throwing  on  her  hat  and  a  black  silk  paletot,  she 
descended  to  her  aunt's  room  to  give  directions  to  the  servants 
about  closing  the  house  for  the  night,  telling  them  she  would  not 
return  until  the  following  morning,  at  ten  o'clock. 

"  Be  careful,  Emily ;  see  that  none  of  the  windows  are  left 
open,  and  shut  the  conservatory  doors — it  will  be  cold  to  night. 
And  poor  little  Blanche,  give  her  her  supper  and  breakfast,  and 
put  her  to  sleep  in  your  room,"  she  added,  caressing  the  little 
poodle  that  just  then  sprang  up  at  her  side,  and  commenced  jump- 
ing around,  as  if  by  its  gambols  it  wished  to  drive  the  sad,  weary 
look  from  the  face  of  its  young  mistress. 

"Po(^r  Blanche!"  said  Evangeline,  stooping,  and  taking  up  the 
pet  in  her  arms.  "You  are  so  happy,  and  my  poor  heart  is  break- 
ingl" 

"  You  do  look  so  tired.  Miss  'Vangy,"  said  Emily  to  her  young 
mistress,  as  she  came  from  the  dining-room  into  Mrs.  Terrant's 
room,  where  Evangeline  was  standing  with  the  poodle,  smoothing 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS   MEN.  315 

its  sofr,  white  hair.  ''You  ain't  going  to  walk  round  to  Miss 
Ludlow's?  Let  me  tell  Henry  to  bring  the  carriage,  he  hasn't  put 
it  away  yet — stopped  to  eat  his  dinner  first." 

"  If  the  carriage  is  ready,  Emily,  Henry  may  bring  it  round, 
for  I  atn  very  weary.  But  I  have  no  time  to  lose,  I  must  be  at 
Mrs.  Ludlow's  at  five,  and  it  now  wants  only  ten  minutes  of  the 
hour.     See  to  it  immediately,  Emily." 

The  girl  left  the  room  ;  in  a  moment  she  returned  to  inform 
her  young  mistress  that  Henry  was  driving  round  to  the  front 
gate. 

"  Don't  forget  what  I  have  told  you,  Emily.  Attend  carefully 
to  Blanche,"  she  said,  handing  the  dog  to  her.  Tlien  seeing  tiiat 
the  shutters  were  closed,  she  passed  through  the  front  hall,  fol- 
lowed by  the  girl. 

"  Is  this  a  card  of  Mr.  Lasley,  Miss  'Vangy,"  and  Emily  handed 
the  young  girl  an  envelope,  which  she  had  just  picked  up  near  the 
hat-rack. 

Evangeline  took  it,  and  reaching  the  hall  door,  paused  to  look 
at  the  superscription.  She  recognized  the  handwriting  of  Lasley, 
and  saw  the  note  was  directed  to  a  young  gentleman  of  Bards- 
town,  a  fast  young  man,  but  a  particular  friend  and  intimate  asso- 
ciate of  Lasley.  Evangeline  also  discovered  that  it  had  been 
recently  penned,  and  that  it  was  unsealed.  Her  curiosity  was 
excited,  but  without  waiting  to  give  the  subject  further  consider- 
ation, she  slipped  the  missive  into  her  pocket,  and  hastened  to  the 
carriage. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  was  at  Mrs.  Ludlow's  door.  Alighting 
from  the  carriage,  she  rang  the  bell  nervously.  A  servant  ushered 
her  into  the  parlor,  where  sat  Mrs.  Richey  and  her  daughter,  and 
several  lady  visitors.  They  were  all  strangers  to  Evangeline  save 
Mrs.  Dumfries,  who  was  formerly  an  intimate  friend  of  her  aunt ; 
bat  differing  very  widely  in  political  sentiment,  the  two  had 
ceased  their  friendly  visits,  and  were  now  so  estranged  as  scarcely 
to  recognize  each  other  in  meeting. 

After  the  introduction,  Evangeline  took  a  seat  by  this  lady,  anc\ 
the  two  engaged  in  conversation.     In  answer  to  Mrs.  Dumfries 
inquiry  for  Mrs.  Terrant's    health,  Evangeline  replied  that  hei- 
aunt's  health  was  good,  but  that,  still  suffering  from  nervousness, 
she  had  allowed  herself  to  be  scared  away  by  the  Southerners." 

"  And  you  did  not  go  with  her,  Evangie  ?  Didn't  yo j  feel  afraid 
of  the  '^  reheU  f  "''  asked  Mrs.  Dumfries,  with  some  surprise. 

"Oh,  no,  madam;  I  am  not  afraid  of  Southern  people.     I  am 


316  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

Southern  myself.  I  wisli  General  Bragg  would  come  and  take 
possession  of  the  city,  and  release  us  all  from  Yankee  rule,  I  am  so 
tired  of  it." 

"Your  aunt  is  violently  opposed  to  that,  isn't  she?"  asked  Mrs. 
Dumfries,  smiling;  "and  your  uncle,  too?" 

"Aunt  is  Union;  uncle  says  but  little  about  it.  He  thinks  the 
whole  thing  is  wrong,  both  parties  are  to  blame,  and  wishes  the 
war  would  end.  Do  you  think,  Mrs.  Dumfries,  that  it  is  possible 
for  General  Bragg  to  come  to  Louisville?"  Evangeline  asked,  the 
earnestness  of  her  voice  attesting  the  deep  interest  she  felt. 

"It  is  possible,  Evangeline,  I  think,  but  perhaps  not  probable. 
Unionists  are  dreadfully  alarmed.  The  rumor  this  evening  is  that 
he  is  marching  direct  upon  our  city  with  a  force  of  seventy-five 
thousand  veteran  troops.  If  this  be  true,  he  can  take  the  place 
without  trouble.  The  troops  already  here  and  those  that  are 
pouring  in  hourly,  are  wholly  undisciplined,  and  could  make  but 
poor  resistance  to  such  an  army.  I  have  never  seen  such  intense 
excitement  as  prevails  in  the  city.  The  Union  men  don't  know 
what  to  do,  those  I  mean  who  are  informed  and  capable  of  judg- 
ing of  matters.  They  are  moving  all  their  valuables  to  Jefferson- 
ville  and  New  Albany.  General  Nelson,  I  understand,  has  ordered 
all  the  heaviest  guns  across  the  river,  to  be  placed  in  position  to 
shell  the  city,  in  the  event  Bragg  comes.  He  says  he  will  contest 
every  inch  of  ground,  and  if  driven  across  the  river  he  will  shell 
the  city  from  the  opposite  side  ;  that  not  one  stone  shall  be  left 
on  another,  if  the  rebels  get  the  place." 

"General  Nelson  is  a  very  rash  man,  Mrs.  Dumfries," remarked 
Mrs.  Sedgwick;  "I  have  known  him  from  his  boyhood.  There  is 
a  great  deal  of  bluster  about  him.  I  do  not  regard  his  threats 
with  much  terror." 

"  The  only  fear  is  his  extreme  recklessness,"  said  Mrs.  Miller ; 
"  I  judge,  from  what  I  have  learned  of  his  character,  that  he  is  a 
desperado,  and  would  not  hesitate  to  do  any  thing  that  would  sub- 
serve his  purposes," 

"  But  even  if  he  were  crazy  enough  to  attempt  to  execute  his 
threat,  I  feel  confident  his  own  party  would  not  allow  him  to  do 
it.  Union  men  are  more  avaricious  than  patriotic,  and  will  never 
be  willing  to  be  reduced  to  poverty,  even  to  support  their  'best 
government  in  the  world,'"  replied  Mrs.  Dumfries.  "I  feel  no 
fear  that  General  Nelson  will  either  burn  or  shell  the  city.  He 
would  be  murdered  on  the  streets  first  by  his  own  party." 

After  some  minutes'  conversation  on  the  all-absorbing  theme  of 


OF    MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  317 

the  war,  the  ladies  rose  to  leave.  As  they  gained  the  hall,  the 
door-bell  runj^.  Evangeline  consulted  her  watch.  It  was  tit'teen 
minutes  after  five.  Stepping  out  with  the  departing  visitors,  she 
encountered  t^  shop-man's  errand-boy  at  the  door  bearing  the 
package  of  clotliing. 

"This  is  for  me,  Flora,"  she  said  hastily  to  the  young  girl  beside 
her.  **  Have  it  taken  to  your  room.  It  is  addressed  to  you,  you 
see.     I  will  explain  all  after  awhile." 

Flora  ordered  the  servant  to  receive  the  roll  and  carry  it  to  her 
room  up  stairs.  The  two  girls  very  soon  followed.  Evangeline 
in  a  very  few  words  explained  her  plan  to  Flora. 

"■I  know  you  will  not  betray  me.  Flora,"  she  said,  as  she  fin- 
ished her  hasty  recital.  "  It  may  not  succeed,  and  should  it  not, 
you  can  readily  perceive  the  necessity  of  the  most  profound  se- 
cresy.  Put  that  package  away  where  it  will  meet  no  one's  eye, 
not  even  your  mother's.  Flora.  I  will  have  it  taken  home  to- 
morrow. I  did  not  know  when  I  ordered  it  that  my  aunt  would 
be  absent  when  it  was  sent,  or  I  should  have  directed  it  carried 
home.  But  I  have  to  be  very  cautious;  one  misstep,  and  the 
whole  matter  is  thwarted.  Oh,  you  cannot  tell  what  anxiety  I 
feel.     I  am  almost  wild.  Flora." 

"I  should  think  so,  Evangeline.  But  how  I  regret  I  did  not 
propose  something  of  this  kind  to  my  cousin.  Mother  gave  liira 
money,  and  told  him  to  escape  if  possible  and  come  to  us.  Per- 
haps if  the  two  could  have  concerted  together  it  would  have  been 
better  for  both." 

''  And  they  may  yet  do  it,  Flora.  They  observed  that  we 
knew  each  other.  This  will  doubtless  lead  to  a  friendly  conversa- 
tion, which  may  result  in  some  understanding  on  their  part." 

"I  sincerely  hope  for  this,  Evangie.  In  a  matter  of  escape  no 
prisoner  would  trust  another  unless  he  knew  him  well." 

"Can't  you  convey  your  cousin  a  note  privately,  Flora?" 

''This  is  impossible.  There  is  no  visiting  permitted  until  next 
Thursday,  and  your  friend  is  to  escape  on  Sunday,  didn't  you  tell 
me?" 

"Sunday  night;  but,  oh,  Flora,  if  he  should  fail!  Isn't  it 
dreadful  to  think  of!" 

'•  He  would  be  in  a  worse  condition  than  now,  Evangie." 

"  Oh,  lie  might  be  shot  and  killed !  You  do  not  know  how  dan- 
gerous it  is  to  attempt  to  get  out.  These  Dutch  guards  are  so 
heartless.  They  don't  hesitate  a  moment  to  shoot  a  man  down 
if  he  otfends  them  in  the  least  thing.     Uow  many  have  been  shot 


318  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

at  Camp  Chase  for  mere  trivialities.  Oh,  I  shudder  to  think  if 
Harry  should  meet  this  sad  fate.  I  should  never  cease  to  upbraid 
myself  for  his  death!"  and  the  excited  girl  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  burst  into  tears.  ^ 

"We  must  hope  for  better  things,  Evangie.     You  know  a  great 
many  escape  unhurt,"  said  Flora,  cheerfully,  endeavoring  to  wia^ 
'her  young  friend  from  her  grief. 

Tea  came.  Evangeline  felt  no  disposition  to  eat.  Her  head 
ached  violently,  and  to  her  highly  nervous  agitation  had  succeeded 
a  most  depressing  languor.  Yet  she  felt  she  must  make  her  ap- 
pearance at  table,  and  summoning  all  her  fortitude,  and  assuming 
a  gayety  entirely  foreign  to  her  feelings,  she  descended  the  stairs 
with  Flora  to  the  supper-room. 

The  topic  of  the  tea-table  chat  was,  of  course,  the  movement  of 
the  Southern  army  into  Kentucky,  and  the  preparations  for  defence. 
Various  were  the  opinions  expressed  relative  to  the  final  issue  of  the 
invasion,  each  one  being  biased  in  his  judgment  by  desire  and  fear. 

While  sitting  at  the  table  the  bell  rang.  The  servant  soon  re- 
turned bearing  a  card,  which  she  handed  to  Evangeline.  The 
young  girl  looked  at  it  for  a  moment.  Her  color  rose  to  her  very 
temples,  and  her  hand  trembled  with  agitation.  She  appeared 
confused,  irresolute.  Turning  to  the  servant,  she  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  "•  Tell  the  gentleman  I  am  at  tea." 

The  girl  bowed  and  bore  the  message  to  the  parlor. 

Evangeline  sat  and  sipped  her  tea,  joining  in  the  conversation 
whenever  it  seemed  necessary  for  her  to  do  so ;  but  her  manner 
was  constrained,  and  her  words  devoid  of  interest.  She  plead 
headache  for  her  want  of  hfe  and  animation,  and  Mrs.  Ludlow  in- 
sisted she  should  take  a  second  cup  of  tea,  which,  however,  she 
declined,  remarking  "  That  tea  did  not  often  benefit  her  headache." 

Excusing  herself  before  the  family  arose,  she  hastened  to  the 
room  alone,  and,  taking  a  pencil  from  her  pocket,  wrote  a  few  words 
hurriedly  on  the  card,  and  laid  it  on  the  stand  beside  her  to  await 
the  coming  of  a  servant  to  bear  it  to  the  parlor.  Then,  as  if  sud- 
denly recollecting  the  note  which  Emily  had  found  in  the  hall  at 
home  and  handed  her,  she  drew.it  fi)rthand  approached  the  burner 
as  if  to  read  it.  In  doing  so  she  passed  the  mirror.  Casting  a 
glance  into  it,  she  started  back  at  her  flushed  and  wild  appearance. 

"  No  wonder  the  children  at  tlie  supper-table  stared  at  me  so," 
she  said,  as  she  took  a  second  look;  "really,  the  Witch  of  Endor 
could  not  have  appeared  more  frightful !"' 

Standing  beneath  the  gas-light,  she  held  the  missive  in  her  hand, 


OF  mokga'n  and  his  men.  319 

as  if  uncertain  whether  or  Dot  to  rend  it.  Opening  it  after  a  min- 
ute, she  glanced  over  its  contents.  Siie  saw  in  the  second  line  her 
name,  and  just  below  it  that  of  Harry  Roberts. 

'*It  concerns  me,  and  Providence  has  thrown  it  in  my  way.  I 
•will  read  it!"  and  seating  herself  on  the  sofa,  she  ran  rapidly  over 
the  first  page. 

''  The  wretch !"  she  exclaimed  to  herself,  "  does  he  call  this  love  ? 
No,  no!  he  shall  never  have  the  satisfaction  of  executing  his  low, 
base  threat.  1  will  release  Harry,  or  die  in  the  effort!  But,  be 
liis — never,  never!  I  shall  neither  be  threatened,  forced,  or  ca- 
joled into  marrying  a  man  whom  I  detest.  How  strange  that  I 
should  ever  have  fancied  I  loved  this  coarse,  heartless  man — this 
man  who  seem^  bent  on  my  destruction,  merely  to  gratify  his  pique! 
He  shall  never  have  to  boast  that  he  conquered  Evangeline  Le- 
noir!'' she  said,  as  she  arched  her  neck,  and  cast  a  look  of  con- 
tem{)tuous  defiance  on  the  sheet  she  held  in  her  hand.  "Ah,  ha! 
a  very  fine  plan,  indeed!"  she  said,  curling  her  lip  in  bitter  scorn, 
as  she  read  the  second  page.  "  He  may  succeed  in  'putting  Harry 
Roberts  out  of  the  way,'  but  never  in  'leading  the  proud  girl  to 
the  altar.'" 

She  read  the  epistle  a  second  time  carefully,  then  folded  it  in  the 
envelope.  "A  very  dishonorable  act  under  other  circumstances, 
but,  in  me,  inexcusable  now.  Thank  God!  I  know  his  plans,  they 
shall  be  thwarted.     He  cannot,  shall  not  succeed." 

Ste[>[)ing  to  the  stand,  she  was  about  to  add  something  to  her 
reply.  She  stood  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  then,  putting  the- pen- 
cil back  into  her  pocket,  she  threw  the  letter  on  the  stand  with 
the  card. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  servant  entered  the  room  bearing  a  pitch- 
er of  water. 

"Girl,  take  that  note  and  card  to  the  young  gentleman  in  the 
parlor,  and  then  return  and  let  me  know  what  he  says,"  she  added, 
as  the  servant  was  leaving  the  room. 

"  The  young  gentleman  didn't  say  any  thing,  miss,"  said  the  girl, 
opening  the  door  and  peeping  in.  "He  looked  very  mad,  ma'am, 
when  he  read  the  note,  and  took  his  iiat  and  went  out." 

"Very  well,  girl;  where  is  Miss  Flora?" 

"In  the  parlor,  ma'am.  She  told  me  to  tell  you  to  excuse  her; 
an  old  friend  had  called  to  see  her,  and  she  would  be  in  the  parlor 
some  time." 

"It  is  all  perfectly  right.  Tell  Miss  Flora  I  would  prefer  to  be 
alone,  my  head  aches  so." 


320  EALDS    AND    ROMANCE 

The  girl  passed  out,  closing  the  door  behind  her.  Evangeline 
threw  herself  into  the  large  arm-chair  that  stood  beside  her,  and 
burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  wept  aloud. 

01),  the  agony,  the  utter  desolateness  of  that  moment!  There 
are  times  in  the  history  of  every  heart,  when  tlie  sorrows  of  life 
crush  out  for  a  time  every  hope,  every  desire.  How  wild  and 
meaningless  existence  then  seems!  We  shrink  from  the  very 
thought  of  our  own  being,  and  unless  the  soul  can  lift  the  eye  of 
faith  to  the  source  whence  cometh  all  consolation,  it  sinks  into  the 
dread  wish  for  annihilation.  Life!  strange,  enigmatical  life !  who 
can  fathom  thy  mysteries? 

Evangeline  wept  and  wept.  The  fountain  of  tears  was  unsealed 
and  gushed  forth  in  unceasing  torrents.  No  power  of  will  could 
check  them.  Sobbing,  she  threw  herself  on  the  sofa,  and  in  a 
paroxysm  of  anguisli  lay  like  one  bereft  of  reason.  iJer  brain 
burnt  as  with  fire,  and  her  heart  throbbed  almost  to  bursting. 
She  clasped  her  hands  despairingly,  and  looked  up  as  if  implor- 
ing aid. 

"Oh!  God  pity  me!"  she  exclaimed,  "pity  me,  pity  me!  and 
bring  relief  to  my  poor  breaking  heart!" 

A  half  hour  passed.  Evangeline  was  still  weeping.  Her  sobs 
and  moans,  so  low  and  piteous,  were  sad  to  hear.  Flora  Pticl)(;y 
entered  the  room.  Going  to  the  sofa,  she  threw  her  arms  around 
the  pn)^trate  form  and  said  soothingly,  "  Do  not  weep  so,  Evangie. 
It  will  all  come  right." 

The  young  girl  opened  her  eyes  and  put  out  her  arms  to  chisp 
the  neck  of  her  friend,  but  they  fell  powerless  at  her  side,  and  the 
large  black  orbs  closed  again,  while  her  whole  countenance  took 
upon  it  a  look  of  unutterable  woe. 

Flora  bathed  the  hot  brow  and  chafed  the  cold  haiids,  and  poured 
into  the  distracted  ear  tender,  loving  words.  But  many  an  hour 
passed  before  the  tried  heart  found  peace  in  sleep. 

Friday  and  Saturday  were  days  of  restless  anxiety,  and  conflict- 
ing doubts  and  hopes.  On  Friday  night,  Mr.  Terrant  returned 
from  Indianapolis,  and  the  vocation  that  Evangeline  had  assumed, 
that  of  housekeeper,  gave  her  employment  which  served  measura- 
bly to  win  her  from  her  trouble.  Young  Lasley  did  not  call  again 
during  the  time.  Evangehne  hoped  that  her  note  had  convinced 
him  that  his  visits  were  no  longer  acceptable. 

Sabbath  morning  came.  Evangeline  prepared  for  church.  Her 
uncle  was  to  accompany  her.  She  was  donning  her  bonnet  and 
paletot  when  the  door-bell  rang  violently.     "Who  can  that  be?" 


OF   MORGAN  AND  HIS  MEN.  321 

she  said,  as  slie  sprung  to  the  window  ty  h;ok  out.  She  could  not 
discern  who  it  was,  but  she  coidd  perceive  it  was  a  man.  Her 
heart  misgave  her.  Breathlessly  she  awaited  the  servant's  ap- 
proach. 

"Mr.  Lasley  is  in  the  parlor.  Miss 'Vangie.  Called  to  see  if 
you  are  going  to  church  this  morning," 

"Tell  Mr.  Lasley  1  have  company,  Emily,  and  he  must  excuse 
me." 

"Has  he  left,  Emily?"  she  asked  of  the  servant,  who  returned 
to  announce  that  the  carriage  was  at  the  door. 

'*^o,  ma'am;  he  says  he'll  go  with  master." 

"Go  and  tell  him,  Emih%  that  your  master  is  going  with  me  in 
the  carriage.  I  have  borne  this  insolence  long  enough,"  she  said, 
passionately,  to  herself.  "  I  will  bear  it  no  longer.  lie  cannot  be 
insulted.  He  is  determined  to  have  his  own  way  in  this  matter, 
and  make  me  yield  in  order  that  he  may  show  his  power.  But  if 
he  has  governed  his  old  aunt  all  the  days  of  his  life,  he  shall  not 
govern  me.  If  he  wishes  to  go  with  my  uncle  he  can  do  so,  but 
he  shall  not  go  with  me." 

"  Wliat  does  lie  say  now,  Emily  ?" 

"He  didn't  say  any  thing,  Miss  'Vangie." 

"  And  did  he  leave  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am  5  he  is  still  sitting  in  the  parlor." 

''  And  where  is  my  uncle  ?" 

"In  his  room,  ma'am;  he  doesn't  know  Mr.  Lasley  is  in  the 
parlor." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  she  asked  lierself,  perplexed  at  her  disagree- 
able position;  "if  I  decline  going,  uncle  will  think  it  so  strange, 
and  I  cannot  go  with  this  man." 

She  bowed  her  head  in  her  hand  as  she  stood  by  the  bureairand 
thought  for  a  moment.  Then  rapidly  descending  the  stairway,  siie 
knocked  at  her  uncle's  door.  In  answer  to  Mr.  Terrant's  "come 
in,"  she  entered,  and  approaching  the  window  where  her  uncle  was 
standing,  she  said  : 

"Uncle,  Mr.  Lasley  is  in  the  parlor — came  to  go  with  me  to 
church.     Wiiat  sliall  I  do  ?"      - 

"  Go,  child ;  of  course  you  could  not  refuse,  could  you  ?" 

•*  But,  uncle,  I  do  not  wish  to  do  so.  You  know  persons  always 
talk  so  mucii  when  a  young  lady  is  seen  with  a  gentleman  at 
church  in  the  forenoon  1"  and  Evangeline,  despite  hersell',  blushed 
deeply. 

"Oh,  well,  child,"  said  the  indulgent  uncle,  "if  you  do  not  wish 


322  KAIDS    AND    KOMAXCE 

to  go  with  young  Lasley ;  but  I  can't  see  why  you  don't.  Bat 
you  women  are  strange  creatures  any  how  !  You  needn't  do  it; 
lie  can  walk  with  me  and  you  can  go  in  the  carriage." 

"  That  is  the  very  plan,  uncle !  Please  go  in  the  parlor  and 
take  him  with  you.  See  here,  I  am  not  ready  to  go  just  now.  He 
will  understand  it." 

The  unsuspecting  uncle  did  as  he  was  bid. 

"  Girls  are  very  modest  creatures  anyhow  you  know,  Mr.  Las- 
ley,"  said  he  to  the  young  man,  after  explaining  the  matter  to  him 
as  delicately  as  he  could.  "All  right,  I  sui)po>e  ;  the  strange  crea- 
tures must  have  their  own  way.     No  accounting  for  their  whims." 

Lasley  bowed  assent,  but  he  by  no  means  received  the  case  as 
did  his  more  elderly  friend.  Not  knowing,  however,  how  to  object 
to  the  proposition,  nor  to  refuse  the  polite  invitation  to  accompany 
Mr.  Terraut,  he  tound  himself  reduced  to  the  extremity  of  seeming 
to  indorse  the  one  and  to  accept  the  other. 

Evangeline  waited  until  she  thought  the  gentlemen  had  reached 
the  church,  then  taking  the  carriage  she  drove  round  for  Mary 
Lawrence,  whom  she  found  already  gone. 

After  services,  Evangeline  and  Mary  hastened  out  of  the  church 
so  as  to  avoid  observation,  and  drove  home  quite  in  advance  of 
Mr.  Terrant. 

"I  do  wonder  if  he  will  return  with  my  uncle!"  said  Evange- 
line, as  the  two  girls  seated  themselves  in  the  carriage.  ''Look 
yonder,  Mary,  do!  he  is  with  him,  and  I  wager  he  will  be  bold 
enough  to  come  to  take  dinner  with  us.  If  he  should,  what  will  I 
do?" 

"Oh!  treat  him  with  freezing  politeness,  Evangeline." 

'''•Politeness^  indeed  !  I  do  not  believe  I  could  tolerate  his  pres- 
ence for  a  moment.  I  do  not  know  why  I  should  feel  such  utter 
dislike  to  one  whom  I  so  short  a  time  ago  fancied  I  admired  ;  but, 
Mary,  he  has  haunted  me  so — has  manifested  such  entire  destitu- 
tion of  all  noble  sentiment,  that  I  am  filled  with  disgust  when  I 
contemplate  his  character." 

The  two  girls  reached  home  and  entered  the  parlor  to  wait  for 
Mr.  Terrant.  In  a  few  minutes  he  entered  the  room  alone,  and 
bidding  Mary  good-day,  seated  himself  beside  her. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Lasley,  Mr.  Terrant?"  asked  Mary,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  he  has  gone  to  the  hotel,  I  suppose.  Why,  girls,  how  re 
miss  1  was ;  I  did  not  think  to  invite  him  to  dine  with  us  to-day. 
He  remarked  to  me,  too,  that  he  would  call  this  evening  at  foui 
o'clock," 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS    MEN.  323 

Tlie  girls  exclianged  meaning  glances. 

"  What  have  you  two  heen  doing,  girls,  that  you  had  to  run 
away  from  cliurch  so  hastily  to-day  ?  I  strove  to  overtake  you, 
and  thus  caused  me  to  forget  to  ask  Mr.  Lasley  to  dinner.  You 
are  after  something  wrong,  Evangie,  child  ;  I  see  it  in  your  face. 
Haven't  you  a  guilty  conscience  on  some  subject?  Come,  tell  me 
what  it  is  you  are  about.     Some  prank  I  warrant." 

"No  prank  in  the  Avorld,  uncle!"  replied  the  young  girl,  blu-h- 
iog  as  she  spoke. 

"Something  is  going  on,  child,  with  regard  to  Lasley  that  isn't 
right.  He  has  been  here  twice  and  you  have  refused  to  see  him. 
Be  careful — a  man  won't  bear  a  woman's  whims  always !" 

"  But,  uncle,  I  was  so  busy  on  Thursday  ;  how  could  I  see  any 
one?"  • 

"And  then  this  morning,  Evangie" — 

"  Well,  I  gave  you  my  reason,  uncle.  Now,  be  candid,  wasn't 
it  a  very  good  one  ?" 

"  Oh,  modest  and  plausible  enough  ;  but  if  your  Aunt  Cecilia  had 
been  so  chary  when  we  were  courting,  we  should  never  have  been 
married,  I  can  tell  you,  child!  I  couldn't  have  stood  all  these 
new-fashioned  ideas  of  modesty ;  they  would  have  run  me  crazy." 

"  Oh !  but  times  have  changed  since  then,  Mr.  Terrant,  haven't 
they  ?"  remarked  Mary  Lawrence,  laughing,  as  she  rose  to  follow 
Evangeline  to  her  room. 

"  Yes,  yes;  and  for  the  worse,  Mary.     I'm  sure  of  that." 

"  Oh !  no,  no,  Mr.  Terrant,"  remonstrated  Mary,  as  she  turned 
in  the  doorway  to  reply.  "You  know  this  is  an  age  of  improve- 
ment in  all  things." 

"Well,  well,  may  be  so;  you  women  will  always  have  things 
your  own  way,"  said  Mr.  Terrant,  bowing  deferentially.  Mary  re- 
turned the  bow  with  a  most  bewitching  smile  on  her  sweet,  sad 
face,  and  passed  with  Evangeline  up  the  stairway. 

"I  am  going  out  with  Mary  awhile  this^vening,"  said  Evange- 
line to  her  uncle,  as  they  returned  to  the  parlor  after  dinner. 
"  You  will  wish  to  take  your  siesta^  and  should  Mr.  Lasley  come 
before  I  return — but  of  course  he  will  not — tell  Emily  to  tell  bim 
wiiere  I  have  gone,  and  he  can  call  at  Mrs.  Purdy's  and  see  us 

both." 

"  Oh !  'Vangie,  child  !  this  will  not  do.  Lasley  will  feel  himself 
insulted.  You  will  lose  him,  child,  I  tell  you  you  will.  Better 
stay  at  home  till  he  comes,  and  then  he  can  walk  round  with  you 
girls." 


324  KAIDS    A.ND    KOMANCE 

'•  Oh,  uncle!  but  '.ve  may  have  to  wait  all  the  evening.  They 
dine  very  late  at  the  hotel,  and  then  Mr.  Lasley  will  have  to  enjoy 
a  cigar,  and  afttr  this  a  nap ;  so  you  see  he  is  not  likely  to  be 
around  before  dark  ;  and  even  if  he  should  couie  earlier,  it  is  a 
pleasant  little  walk  round  to  Mrs.  Purdy's,  and  I  know  he  wishes 
to  see  Mary,  any  how.  Moreover,  uncle,  I  made  this  engagement 
with  Mary  to  meet  a  friend  of  ours  several  days  ago." 

"  And  I  cannot  well  release  Evangie,  Mr.  Terrant.  I  am  sure 
Mr.  Lasley  will  excuse  us  for  not  awaiting  his  arrival  when  he  is 
made  to  understand  the  circumstances." 

"Well,  well,  you  girls  will  have  every  thing  your  own  way! 
Noiise  for  me  to  inlerlere  in  Lasley's  behalf.  If  he  should  come 
— and  he  told  me  he  would — I  shall  have  to  send  him  round  to 
see  you." 

'•  Do,  Mr.  Terrant,  if  you  please  !  you  will  confer  a  favor  on  us." 

•'  And,  uncle,  should  I  fail  to  be  back  at  ten,  won't  you  tell 
Uenry  to  drive  round  for  us  ?  We  may  not  have  any  company  to 
church  to-night." 

""  Better  tell  Pauline,  child.  You  know  I  am  so  forgetful  about 
these  little  matters." 

Evangeline  rung  the  bell,  gave  Pauline  the  necessary  instruc- 
tions, then  bidding  her  uncle  good-evening,  set  out  with  Mary 
Lawrence  lor  Mrs.  Purdy's. 

Fifteen  minutes  to  four.  The  two  yonng  girls,  deeply  veiled, 
descended  the  foot  steps  to  the  street  and  directed  their  way  to  the 
prison.  As  they  walked  rapidly  along,  they  encountered  several 
of  their  friends,  but  they  passed  them  by  without  recognition,  lest 
they  should  be  betrayed.  Street  ai'ter  street  was  quickly  jiassed, 
the'  two  girls  scarcely  daring  to  interchange  a  word.  Just  as  thoy 
were  turning  the  corner  of  Third  and  Green,  they  met  Mr.  Rubens 
in  front  of  the  custom-huuse.  He  paused  as  if  about  to  speak. 
Evangeline  trembled  as  she  felt  herself  recognized;  but  the  gen- 
tleman, after  casting  his  eye  vacantly  up  and  down  the  pavement, 
proceeded  in  his  walk. 

"  How  sad  and  disturbed  Mr.  Roberts  looks  I"  wlii>pered  Mary 
to  her  friend. 

*•  I  am  afraid  something  has  befallen  Harry,"  was  the  tremulous 
reply  of  Evangehne. 

'•  I  wonder,"  she  said,  after  a  short  pause,  "■  if  he  has  been  to 
the  prison  !  May  be  Harry  is  sick — has  gone  away  !"  she  added 
slowly,  as  if  afraid  to  give  voice  to  her  own  apprehension. 

A  few  moments  more  and  the  two  had  reached  the  prison. 


OF  MaKGx\:;  a^d  ius  men.  325 

Evangeline  timidly  raised  her  ihick  veil  and  looked  hurriedly  up 
and  down  Green,  and  in  and  out  Fifth-street.  But  few  per- 
sons were  passing.  The  guard  kept  watch  in  front  of  tiie  great 
closed  gates  that  opened  on  Green.  A  solitary  sentinel  paced 
back  and  forth  on  Fifth-street.  lie  was  a  youth,  pleasant, 
friendly,  and  genteel  in  his  bearing.  After  taking  this  furtive 
survey,  Evangeline  cast  her  eye  up  to  the  designated  window. 
There  stood  a  prisoner.  Was  it  Robert-?  She  looked  again. 
Tiie  prisoner  bowed,  and  she  knew  it  was  Harry ! 

"Mar}-,  you  cross  the  street  and  engage  tlie  sentinel  in  conver- 
sation,  while  I  stand  here  to  receive  the  signal.  Ask  him  any 
thing,  Mary,  any  thing;  whether  the  prisoners  receive  company, 
and  when ;  if  they  behave  themselves  pretty  well  ?  You  know 
what  to  do,  Mary.  Go,  go!  we  will  arouse  suspicion  if  we 
remain  longer  here !" 

Mary  quickly  crossed  over,  and  throwing  aside  her  thick 
mourning  veil,  approached  towards  the  guard.  She  paused  as 
soon  as  she  found  sl^  had  attracted  his  attention.  This  she  did 
that  he,  in  advancing  to  meet  her,  might  leave  Evangeline  stand- 
ing on  the  opposite  side,  at  his  back.  The  man  raised  his  cap  as 
his  eye  fell  on  tiie  graceful  form  and  beautiful  face  of  the  young 
girl  before  him.  Mary  bowed,  and  spoke  pleasantly  but  modestly, 
and  commenced  to  question  him,  as  Evangeline  had  suggested. 

Evangeline  stepped  forward,  so  as  to  i)lace  herself  directly  in 
front  of  the  window  where  the  prisoner  stood.  She  waved  her 
handkerchief,  and  strained  her  eyes  for  the  answering  signal.  A 
moment  passed.  Oh,  what  a  moment  of  suspense  that  was  to 
the  expectant  heart  of  the  young  girl,  as  she  stood  there  gazing 
upward  towards  that  window  !  It  came.  The  prisoner's  right 
hand  was  raised,  placed  on  his  brow,  then  drawn  slowly  across 
his  face,  and  rested  on  his  shoulder.  It  was  the  indication  of  suc-^ 
cess  that  Evangeline  had  proposed. 

She  stood  as  one  bewildered,  stupefied,  under  the  rush  of  her 
wdd  emotion.  Harry  would  be  free— a  few  short  hours  would 
restore  him  to  liberty  and  to  her!  The  tht.nghr  was  intoxicating. 
Yet  another  sign  was  needed  :  the  hour  must  be  designated.  She 
raised  and  gently  waved  it  a  second  time.  The  prisoner  bowed 
understandingly.  Evangeline  sent;  up  another  eager,  fixed  look. 
The  left  hand  was  raided,  then  slowly  lowered.  This  gesture  was 
repeated  eight  times.  ''  Kme  o'clock,"  said  Evangeline  to  herself. 
Then  r;!i>ing  her  left  hand  s!ie  repeated  the  action  of  the  prisoner 
niu9  ti!:'-s.     As  her  hand  fell  the  last  time,  the  prisoner  bowed 


326  llAEDS   AXD  KOMANCE 

twice,  and  turned  from  the  window.  It  was  tlie  work  of  but  a 
minute,  and  yet  what  mighty  results  to  these  two  young  hearts 
hung  on  its  fleeting  moments  ! 

"  Tliank  God!  thank  God!"  exclaimed  Evangeline,  "Harry 
will  be  safe!"  She  said  no  more,  but  turned  to  look  for  Mary. 
As  she  turned  she  encountered  Captain  Fred.  Morton.  She  had 
forgotten  to  lower  her  veil,  and  was  recognized.  She  started 
back  as  if  she  had  met  a  spectre.  The  captain  bowed  politely, 
and  i)asse(l  on. 

"Mary!"  she  called,  unconscious  of  what  she  did.  "Mary, 
Mary,  do  come  on." 

"  She  was  ready  to  sink  under  her-agitation.  Had  she  been 
discovered  by  this  Federal  officer?  Had  she?  And  if  so,  what 
would  be  the  result?  But  Harry  is  safe,  she  said.  Thank  God 
he  is  not  implicated,  and  as  regards  myself,  I  defy  Fred.  Morton 
and  all  the  Yankee  hosts ;  they  won't  dare  to  annoy  me. 

Mary  responded  to  her  call,  and  came  tripping  across  the  street 
dehghted  that  she  had  acted  her  part  so  well  in  the  fearful  drama. 
Just  as  she  reached  the  pavement,  on  which  Evangeline  was 
standing,  she  met  young  Morton  face  to  face.  She  bowed  coldly, 
and  as  he  passed  stiffly  by,  Mary  thought  she  saw  on  liis  face  a 
sinister  smile.  It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met  in  weeks.  She 
had  persistently  avoided  him  on  all  occasions,  wliich  avoidance  he 
had  deeply  felt.  H^  loved  her  devotedly — hopelessly  he  knew, 
yet  he  could  not  conquer  his  affection.  And  he  felt  a  constant 
pique  that  he  should  at  all  times  be  the  recipient  of  marked 
neglect. 

"  "Will  Harry  get  out,  Evangeline  ?  but  I  need  not  ask,  I  read 
his  escape  in  your  face." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Mary,  he  will  soon  be  free.  The  signals  were  all 
right,  and  to-night  at  nine  o'clock  he  will  meet  me  at  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church." 

''Oh!  Evangeline,  we  are  betrayed,  betrayed!"  exclaimed 
Mary,  grasping  the  arm  of  her  young  friend.  "  I  am  sure  we  are. 
Fred.  Morton  has  seen  it  all — knows  it  all.  "We  have  nothing  to 
hope." 

"  "Why  do  you  think  so,  Marv  ?  Did  vou  see  him  observing 
us  ?" 

"  Oh,  no!  I  was  busy  talking  to  the  guard.  But  I  read  it  in 
the  expression  of  his  face  as  he  passed  me.  His  look  was  full  of 
significance  and  malignity." 

"  You  are  excited,  Mary,"  replied  Evangeline,  endeavoring  to 


OF   MOKG/VN    AND    flLS   MKN.  327 

appear  calm.  "  I  am  confident  young  Morton  could  not  have  seen 
any  one  but  me.  Harry  had  left  the  window  before  Jie  came  up. 
You  Were  on  the  opposite  side  of  tlie  street,  and  what  could  he 
suspect  from  seeing  me  standing  gazing  up  at  the  prison  ?'' 

"Are  you  sure,  Evangeline,  that  M(jrion  did  not  see  you? 
Might  he  not  have  been  where  he  observed  all  your  movements?" 

"  I  am  confident,  Mary,  that  he  did  not.  I  heard  him  approach- 
ing me  from  Walnut-street,  and  I  feel  assured  he  .saw  only  me. 
Don't  be  alarmed.  You  and  llarry  are  safe.  If  he  desires  to 
make  mischief,  I  only  am  involved,  and  I  bid  him  defiance.  I  am 
not  one  whit  afraid  of  all  the  Lincolnites  in  creation." 

"  You  are  protected,  Evangeline,  by  your  Union  friends.  I  am 
so  unprotected.  Yon  cannot  realize  what  it  is  to  know  you  are 
alone  without  a  friend  to  defend  you.  Pa  is  gone  ;  John  is  gone, 
and  I  am  alone,  isolated ;  I  have  no  one  to  look  to,  to  shield  me 
frcmi  the  violence  of  a  foe :  no  one,  no  one,"  and  Mary  sighed  as 
if  her  heart  were  breaking.  ''Oh  that  pa  would  come, — no,  he 
cannot,  dare  not  do  this,  but  that  he  would  send  some  one  to  take 
me  from  this  horrid  place." 

"  Be  patient,  Mary ;  when  Hurry  gets  out  we  will  all  go  beyond 
Yankee  lines  and  Yankee  rule,  and  be  free  and  happy.  I  am  al- 
most wild  with  deliglit  at  the  thought  that  he  will  so  soon  be  free. 
Do  you  think  there  is  any  possibilit}',  Mary,  that  he  will  be  dis- 
covered ?" 

''  He  is  to  bribe  the  guard,  is  he  not?" 

''  Yes,  that  is  the  plan,  and  the  matter  is  already  arranged  be- 
tween them." 

"  He  may  he  betrayed.  There  is  a  possibility  of  this.  A  man 
who  will  sutfer  himself  to  be  bribed,  will  betray  if  he  can  find  it 
his  interest  to  do  so.     But  let  us  hope  this  may  not  be." 

"Oh  I  do  not  fear,  Mary.  Harry  is  very  shrewd  and  would  not 
allow  himself  to  be  imposed  upon.  But  I  raust  secure  a  hack  to 
take  him  out  of  the  city." 

"  Better  leave  his  escape  from  Louisville  to  liis  own  management. 
He  has  learned  to  avoid  detection,  and  he  will  be  much  safer  on 
foot  than  in  a  carriage." 

The  girls  returned  to  Mrs.  Purdy's  to  await  the  appointed  hour. 
To  their  great  delight  they  found  that  Lasley  was  not  in,  nor  had 
lie  called. 

"And  did  you  reach  the  city,  Cousin  William?" 

"  No,  it  was  impossible.  They  would  not  allow  me  to  pass  their 
lines." 


328  KATDS    AXD  ROMANCE 

''  Who  would  not  ?" 

*'  Tlie  Confederate  pickets  at  Shelby  ville.  I  told  thenn  the  case, 
and  plead  with  them  to  let  nie  go,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Their 
orders  were  to  permit  no  one  to  go  out  of  their  lines,  and  they  could 
not  disobey,  they  said." 

'*  Oh  my  poor,  poor  child  !"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  as  he  bowed  his 
head  and  lieaved  a  deep  sigh.  "What  will  become  of  her?  I 
know  that  she  is  almost  frantic  with  grief.  Oh,  that  I  could  but 
get  her  here  !"  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sat  for  some 
minutes  engaged  in  thought.  Looking  up  at  the  y/)ung  man  before 
him,  he  said:  "Do  you  think  you  could  get  through  by  way  of 
Bardstown,  Cousin  William  ?" 

"I  do  not  know.  The  effort  might  be  made.  It  might  prove 
successful." 

"Will  you  try?" 

"Most  certainly,  if  you  desire  it." 

"  Oh,  I  should  be  most  thankful  if  you  would  make  the  attempt. 
It  may  succeed.  I  will  remunerate  you  to  any  extent.  I  would 
willingly  sacrifice  alUI  have  to  get  my  child.  It  was  folly  in  me 
to  leave  her,  but  I  felt  so  sure  I  should  get  back  to  Louisville  and 
bring  her  out  myself." 

"  And  this  you  may  yet  do.  The  Confederates  may  take  the 
city." 

"  I  think  not.  There  seems  but  little  promise  of  it  to  me.  In- 
deed I  am  very  doubtful  about  their  remaining  long  in  the  State. 
But  Bragg's  force  and  success  must  determine  that.  This  army  of 
General  Smith's  will  soon  have  to  leave  this  point  unless  reinforced. 
But  wheu  can  you  set  out  again  for  Louisville  by  way  of  Bards- 
town?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  can  procure  a  pass,  sir." 

"  This  is  Thursday.  If  you  do  not  succeed  you  will  be  back  by 
Sunday,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  that  will  be  ample  time  to  go  and  return." 

''If  possible,  Cousin  William,  bring  my  daughter.  God  grant 
you  may  succeed."  The  father  spoke  earnestly.  Ills  grief-marked 
face  wore  an  expression  of  unusual  sadness. 

"I  will  accomplish  the  object  of  my  mission,  if  possible,  sir." 

"  Take  this  letter  to  Mary,  it  will  tell  her  what  to  do ;  and  here 
is  a  purse,  hand  it  to  her,  she  may  need  ir." 

The  young  man  bade  his  friend  farewell,  and  leaving  the  hotel, 
proceeded  to  the  stable,  where,  procuring  a  horse  and  buggy,  he  set 
out  once  more  to  endeavor  to  reach  Louisville. 


OF    il ORGAN    AND    III3    MEN.  329 

Two  (lays  passed — days  of  anxious  suspense  to  Mr.  Lawrence, 
who,  in  tlie  uncertainty  of  liis  daughter's  fate,  was  the  prey  of  dire- 
ful apprehension  and  alarm. 

Sunday  evening  came.  It  was  the  21st  of  September.  General 
Bragg  having  defeated  the  enemy  intrenched  at  Mumfordsville, 
capturing  four  thousand  prisoners,  and  heavy  stores,  was  advancing 
towards  Louisville.  The  news  of  his  successful  march  had  reached 
Lexington,  and  every  Southern  heart  was  beating  high  with  grati- 
tude and  hope.  It  looked  as  if  Kentucky  was,  at  last,  to  be  re- 
deemed from  the  hand  of  Northern  rule,  and  placed  where  she 
should  be,  under  \he  government  of  the  Confederate  States.  Gen- 
eral Kirby  Smith's  army  had  received  many  accessions,  and  through- 
out that  portion  of  the  State  regiments  were  being  organized  for 
the  Southern  army.  Every  city,  town,  village  and  hamlet  in  the 
State  was  the  scene  of  the  wildest  excitement.  The  two  parties. 
Southern  and  Northern,  which  everywhere  existed  in  antagonism, 
served  by  conflicting  opinions  and  desires  to  keep  the  flame  of 
agitation  brightly  burning.  It  was  a  time  of  comparative  liberty 
for  Southern  men,  a  season  for  fear  and  trembling  with  the  North- 
ern party.  Every  thing  was  forgotten  in  the  one  theme,  that  of 
the  advance  of  the  Confederate  army. 

Mr.  Lawrence  was  seated  in  his  room  at  the  hotel,  gloomy  and 
sad,  under  the  weight  of  his  own  i)ersonal  sorrows,  which  neither 
Lis  faith  in  God's  providences  nor  the  consolation  of  divine  truth, 
80  clearly  set  forth  by  the  minister  of  God  in  his  morning  discourse, 
could  remove.  He  was  desolate  amid  the  throng — grief-laden, 
though  surrounded  by  the  rushing  whirl  of  stormy  events.  His 
only  son,  exposed  to  the  calamities  and  liardships  of  war,  his  only 
daughter  separated  from  him  within  the  enemy's  power,  unpro- 
tected and  alone.  His  thoughts  were  away  with  her,  and  he  was 
endeavoring  to  paint  to  himself  what  she  was  doing  this  beautiful 
Sabbath  evening.  And  then  he  pictured  to  himself  the  happiness  of 
the  meeting  with  her,  which  he  hoped  would  not  be  long  deferred. 

The  sunlight  came  in  through  the  uncurtained  window,  and  fell 
in  rich  golden  glory  over  the  floor.  Its  radiant  light  reminded  him 
of  the  beauty  of  that  heavenly  home,  where  dwelt  amid  the  hosts 
of  the  redeemed  the  spirit  of  his  lost  wife,  and  his  soul  lifted  its 
aspirations  to  that  celestial  city  which  needeth  not  the  light  of  a 
candle,  nor  yet  of  the  sun,  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  it  light,  and 
His  redeemed  ones,  clothed  in  shining  garments,  worship  before 
the  great  White  Throne,  whereon  sits  the  Eternal  Father.  It  was 
an  hour  of  soul-communion  with  the  stricken  father.     To  him  the 


330  KAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

joy  of  the  world  had  become  dimmed — lite  had  lost  its  charms — 
the  earth  its  false  glare  and  baneful  influence. 

The  old  man  took  uj)  his  Bible  and  read,  and  as  he  read  the  tears 
streamed  down  his  face.  Yet,  while  l"e  wept,  his  soul  rejoiced, 
for  by  faith  he  laid  hold  on  the  promi^es  of  the  Gospel,  and  his 
spiritual  strength  was  renewed  even  amid  the  heart's  deep  sorrow- 
ing. After  reading  for  some  time  he  closed  the  bocjk,  then  knelt 
to  pray.  Long  and  fervently  did  he  supplicate  God's  mercy  and 
guidance,  and  earnestly  ask  for  submission  to  His  will.  Ki.-iug,  lie 
appi'oached  the  window,  and  seating  himself,  looked  out  into  tlie 
busy  street  below. 

While  he  thus  sat,  a  gentle  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  He 
rose  ai^d  opened  it. 

"Unsuccessful  again.  Cousin  "William?"  said  Mr.  Lawrence, 
calmly,  but  in  a  low,  deep  tone,  that  told  far  better  than  language 
could  have  done  how  bitter  was  his  disappointment. 

The  young  man  bowed  assent,  and  moving  forward  to  the  seat 
designated  for  him,  explained  the  cause  of  his  failure. 

"  I  must  bear  it,  though  it  is  very  hard,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence, 
resuming  his  seat  near  the  window.  "If  I  knew  my  child  was 
safe,  I  would  ask  nothing  more.  But  I  have  heard  nothing  from 
her  since  I  left,  and  I  know  not  what  may  have  befallen  her." 

"Oh,  I  doubt  not  she  is  safe,  sir.  1:^0  one  is  allowed  to  leave 
Louisville  now  for  this  portion  of  the  State,  and  letters  do  not 
come  except  by  private  hand.  You  could  not  reasonably  hope  to 
hear  from  her  under  present  circumstances,  I  think.  I  sent  your 
letter  by  a  citizen  of  Louisville,  whom  I  met  on  my  way,  and  who 
will  go  in  to-morrow  or  the  next  day." 

"  And  they  are  fortifying  the  city  and  have  placed  it  under  mar- 
tiallaw?" 

"That  is  the  statement  of  all  who  seem  to  be  at  all  acquainted 
with  the  present  position  of  aifairs  there." 

"  And  where  is  General  Bragg  now  ?" 

"Marching  on  from  Mumfordsville  in  the  direction  of  Louisville. 
It  is  the  opinion  of  many  Union  men  that  he  will  certainly  take 
that  city  in  a  few  days,  notwithstanding  their  fortifications  and 
reinforcements." 

"I  should  be  most  happy  t?  see  it,  but  I  am  by  no  means  san- 
guine. And  yet  if  he  allows  them  a  foothold  they  will  in  their 
turn  drive  him  South  again." 

"The  only  danger  I  see,  sir,  is  that  of  Buell's  getting  to  Louis- 


OF   MOKGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  331 

ville  first  Both  armies  are  striving  wiili  their  utmost  power  to 
beat  the  other  in  this  closely  contested  race/' 

"And  where  is  Buell  now?" 

"In  close  pursuit  of  Bragg,  it  is  said.     Only  a  day  behind  him." 

"And  will  General  Bragg  allow  himself  to  be  hemmed  in  by  the 
two  forces — the  one  at  Louisville  in  his  front,  and  Buell  in  his 
rear?  If  he  does,  he  will  show  himself  utterly  devoid  of  geueral- 
shi|),  I  think." 

''It  is  said,  sir,  that  the  troops  at  Louisville  will  offer  no  resist- 
ance, but  fall  back  across  the  Oiiio  river  at  Hragg's  approach." 

"But  even  ihen  he  would  be,  as  it  were,  flanked,  unless  Buell 
should  cross  the  river  into  Indiana.  And  then  the  gunboats,  to- 
gether with  heav}-  ordnance  placed  on  the  opposite'  shore,  will 
nuike  his  position  in. Louisville  doubtful.  I  cm  see  but  little  hope 
— very  little  hope." 

"  A  few  days,  sir,  will  determine  the  issue.  Active  preparations 
are  being  made  by  the  Federals.  They  are  concentrating  large 
numbers  of  the  newly  enlisted  men  at  Jeffersonville  and  New  Al- 
bany, and  are  about  to  construct  pontoon  bridges  across  the  river 
at  Louisville,  I  suppose  either  for  advance  or  retreat,  whichever 
may  be  their  fortune." 

"Are  the  Southern  people  enthusiastic  in  the  portions  of  the 
State  where  you  have  been  ?" 

"Very,  indeed.  They  feel  the  permanent  occupation  of  Ken- 
tucky by  the  Confederates  to  be  a  fixed  fact.  It  may  be  I  have 
caught  their  enthusiasm.     I  certainly  am  inclined  to  hope." 

"  But  should  the  Confederates  have  to  abandon  the  State,  what 
a  sad,  sad  thing  it  will  be  for  thousands  of  Southern  men,  who  will 
have  to  leave  their  homes,  their  wives  and  children,  and  exile 
themselves,  or  else  remain  to  be  imprisoned !  Oh,  if  I  but  had 
my  child  with  me,  I  should  feel  able  to  defy  every  fortune !  But  the 
thought  of  having  to  leave  her  behind  almost  breaks  my  lieart.  I 
may  never  again  see  her,  and  she  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
unsparing  foe," 

"  She  spoke  of  coming  out.  But  how  can  she  come  .alone  and 
unprotected?  I  would  go  for  her,  but  should  I  be  discovered,  I 
■would  be  immediately  sent  to  prison,  and  then  she  would  be  left 
without  any  hope.  Sad,  sad  fate  for  any  one  so  young  and  inex- 
perienced!"  he  said,  while  his  whole  frame  heaved  with  the  pres- 
sure of  his  mental  distress. 

The  young  man  felt  it  was  unnecessary  to  attempt  consolation. 
He  looked   upon  his  relative  with  deep  sympathy.     After  some 


332  RAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

minutes'  silence  on  the  part  of  both,  Mr.  Stanford  proposed  a  walk 
to  the  encampment. 

Willie  this  conversation  was  taking  i>lace  between  Mr.  Lawrence 
and  his  young  cousin,  Mary  and  Evangeline  were  standing  before 
the  prison,  carrying  out  the  bold  endeavor  of  Harry's  liberation. 

The  church-bells  rang.  Mary  and  Evangeline  put  on  their  bon- 
nets and  shaws. 

"■Who  will  go  with  you,  girls?"  asked  Mrs.  Purdy,  as  the  two 
entered  the  parlor,  ready  to  leave.  "  I  wish  I  were  well  enough 
to  accompany  you,  but  really  my  head  aches  too  severely.  It 
would  be  doing  myself  injustice  to.  go  out  to-night.  There  is 
Lewellen,  he  can  escort  you.  You  will  feel  no  fear  with  him. 
Come,  ray  son,  get  on  your  cap  and  go  with  the  young  ladies  to 
church." 

''  Oh,  no,  no,  Mrs.  Purdy,  don't  make  Lewellen  go  out,  he  looks 
so  weary.  Uncle  will  send  the  carriage  for  us.  '  If  it  is  not  at  the 
door,  it  will  be  there  in  a  few  minutes.  See,  girl,  if  it  has  not  al- 
ready come." 

'•Yes,  ma'am,  Mr.  Terrant's  carriage  has  been  here  for  some 
time." 

"We  are  not  at  all  afraid  to  go  in  the  carriage  alone,  Mrs.  Pur- 
dy.    Henry  is  a  very  safe  driver,  and  the  horses  are  so  gentle," 

"  Come  back  with  Mary,  Evangeline,  and  pass  the  night  with 
us." 

"  I  shall  either  do  this  or  take  Mary  with  me.  You  know  aunty 
is  from  home  now,  and  I  do  not  remain  at  home  at  night  without 
some  company." 

The  two  young  ladies  bade  Mrs.  Purdy  good-evening,  and,  get- 
ting into  the  carriage,  bade  the  driver  take  them  to  Dr.  Hoyt's 
church. 

"'Shall  we  go  in,  Mary,  or  remain  in  the  carriage  until  nine?" 
asked  Evangeline.  "I  do  not  know  what  is  best.  -If  we  can  se- 
cure a  back  seat,  so  as  to  leave  unnoticed,  1  should  prefer  it  to 
staying  without.     Would  not  you  ?" 

'•Greatly;  but  then  we  must  avoid  observation.  Mr.  Plumber 
has  a  pew  in  the  back  of  the  church.  I^one  of  the  family  are  in 
town.     Shall  We  sit  in  that?" 

•'Yes,  yes,  anywhere  to  be  secure  from  notice." 

Bidding  the  driver  to  remain  at  the  corner  of  the  street  until 
the  services  were  over,  the  two  girls  alighted  and  entered  the 
church.  They  found  themselves  early.  As  yet  but  few  persons 
were  seated,  and  the  gas  was  burning  at  half  light.     Quietly  they 


OF    MORGAN    AND    HIS    MKN.  333 

made  tlieir  way  to  Mr.  Plmnber's  pew,  ^ere,  seating  themselves, 
tliey  drew  down  their  veils,  so  as  almost  wholly  to  shut  outthe 
view  of  their  faces.  Family  by  family  the  congregation  came  in, 
until  the  building  was  pretty  nearly  filled.  The  gas  was  turned  ou 
to  a  full  jet,  the  organ  pealed  forth  a  salutatory  as  the  minister  ap- 
peared in  the  pulpit,  and  services  ct)mmenced. 

During  the  singing,  tiie  prayer,  and  the  rather  lengthy  sermon 
that  succeeded  tliem,  Evangeline  and  Mary  remained  seated  like 
statues  draped  from  view.  They  dared  not  turn  their  faces  right 
nor  left,  lest  they  should  be  recognized  by  some  friend.  As  the 
minister  concluded  his  sermon,  Evangeline  quietly  drew  forth  her 
watch.  It  wanted  five  minutes  to  nine.  "  We  will  go,"  she  said 
to  Mary. 

As  the  minister,  uplifting  his  hands,  said,  ''Let  us  pray,"  they 
arose  and  noiselessly  left  the  house. 

"Oh,  Mary,  Mary,  if  Harry  should  not  come!"  said  Evangeline, 
fts  she  nervously  handed  her  friend  into  the  carriage. 

"  Stay  just  where  you  are,  Henry,  until  I  tell  you  to  leave, 
church  is  not  out  yet."  She  remained  standing  on  the  pavement 
holding  open  the  door  of  the  carriage,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  dark, 
grim  form  of  the  prison  that  rose  uj)  before  her  view.  "Strange 
contrast,"  she  said,  "this  close  proximity  of  the  house  of  God, 
where  men  assemble  to  worship  Him  according  to  the  dictates  of 
their  own  conscience,  and  the  prison-house,  where  men  made  in 
His  own  image  and  born  freemen  are  shut  out  from  society,  abused, 
insulted,  merely  because  they  have  dared  to  exercise  their  reason 
and  express  their  convictions — dared  to  enjoy  this  right  that  God 
himself  has  bestowed  on  them,  and  which  all  liberal  governments 
guarantee  to  their  meanest  subjects.  What  a  sad  comment  upon 
mankind,  upon  the  passions  to  the  behests  of  which  he  yields  up 
conscience  and  judgment,  and  which,  like  the  brute  creation,  he 
follows  as  his  guide  !" 

"Mary,  Mary!"  she  said  excitedly,  thrusting  her  head  into  the 
carriage,  "some  one  approaches.  I  can't  see  him  distinctly,  but  it 
looks  like  Harry," 

"Where,  where,  Evangeline?"  replied  Mary,  springing  out  and 
taking  position  beside  the  trembling  girl. 

"  Yonder.  Don't  you  see  somebody  in  the  dim  gas-light  coming 
this  way?  He  turned  from  Green-street.  Look,  he  is  crossing. 
It  must  be  Harry.  Oh,  Mary !"  and  Evangeline  started  hastily 
forward  to  meet  the  approaching  figure,  and  as  it  neared  the  pave- 
ment she  ejaculated,  "Harry,  Harry!" 


334  KAIDS    AND    ROMANCE 

The  man  suddenly  stf^od,  raised  liis  head,  aod  looked  iuquir- 
iugly  round.  Evangeline  advanced  to  the  rear  of  the  carriage,  and 
said  more  softly  than  at  first : 

"  Harry,  Harry  !    is  that  you  ?" 

Again  the  figure  paused,  and  peered  more  earnestly  in  the 
direction  from  whence  the  sound  proceeded.  Discovering  in  the 
dim  light  only  a  female  figure  near  the  carriage  in  front  of  him,  he 
lowered  his  head,  and  passed  quickly  on. 

Evangeline  sprang  to  the  door-step,  and  rushed  into  the  car- 
riage, exclaiming,  ''It  was  not  Harry,  Mary.  Who  could  it  have 
been  ?     I  hope  he  did  not  know  me." 

Her  voice  was  harsh,  her  manner  bewildered  and  agitated.  She 
trembled  in  every  limb,  her  heart  beat  audibly.  The  clock  of  the 
cathedral  sounded  out  the  hour  of  nine. 

"Be  still,  Evangeline;  be  composed.  You  have  nothing  "to 
fear.  The  man  evidently  did  not  recognize  yon,  or  he  would 
have  made  himself  known.  I  do  not  suppose  he  heard  your 
words — only  your  voice  arrested  his  attention.  Be  calm,  we 
have  nothing  to  fear." 

"  But  if  Harry  should  not  come?  It  is  nine — the  hour — and  he 
is  not  here.  I  shall  die,  Mai'T,  if  I  am  disappointed.  It  is  my 
only  hope  in  life.  For  days  1  have  lived  on  the  expectation  of 
this  moment.     And  now,  if  he  should  not  come — " 

Just  then  the  organ  pealed  forth  its  deep,  bass  notes.  Evan- 
geline threw  her  arms  around  her  friend,  and  hid  her  face  on  her 
bosom.  "  Not  come — not  come  1  Oh,  how  can  I  bear  it  ?"  and 
she  burst  into  tears. 

"  You  must  be  calm,  Evangeline.  You  will  betray  us,  if  you 
weep  that  way.  It  is  not  too  late,  Harry's  plans  may  have  been 
delayed.     I  shall  look  yet  half  an  hour  for  him." 

''  Oh,  will  you — do  you,  Mary  ?"  she  sobbed,  starting  up  and 
gazing  into  the  sweet  face  bending  over  her,  as  if  a  ray  of  hope, 
altogether  unlooked  for,  had  that  instant  found  lodgment  in  her 
bosom.  ''  Do  you  really  think,  Mary,  that  this  is  true  ?  Harry  is 
always  so  punctual !" 

"  But,  Evangeline,  Harry  is  now  dependent  on  circumstances 
which  he  cannot  master  to  suit  his  will  and  desires.  It  may  be 
he  is  watched,  or  some  of  the  oflicers  of  the  prison  perhaps  are  in ; 
or  the  sentinel  with  whom  he  has  made  the  arrangement  may  not 
have  yet  entered  on  his  duty." 

"  True,  true,  Mary  ;  I  see  that  a  hundred  things  may  prevent 
his  being  here  at  the  moment.     But  church  will    soon  be  out. 


OF   MOKGAN   AND    HIS   MEN.  335 

What  shall  we  do  then  ?  Will  it  uot  be  suspicious  for  us  lo 
remain  here  in  this  place  withont  any  apparent  reason  ?" 

'"■  Suppose  we  drive  round  the  square  while  the  people  are  leav- 
ing the  church,  and  then  return  to  this  point?" 

'*  If  Harry  should  come  while  we  are  away,  Mary !  No,  no,  I 
cannot  leave.  But  this  we  can  do,"  she  added,  after  thinking  a 
moment;  ''I  will  remain  and  keep  watch  for  Harry,  while  Henry 
drives  you  roynd.  I  will  shield  myself  in  that  deep  shade  yonder, 
and  no  one  will  see  me;  if  they  do,  I  will  tell  them  I  am  await- 
ing my  carriage.  If  he  should  come,  and  I  do  not  see  him,  he 
will  doubtless  remain  until  after  everyone  is  gone,  for  he  will  feel 
sure  I  am  here." 

"Tell  the  driver,  Evangeline,  to  drive  slowly  around  the 
square,  returning  just  to  this  point,  but  not  to  set  off  until  the 
congfegation  is  dismissed." 

Evangeline  gave  the  order  slowly  and  emphatically  to  the  boy 
on  the  box. 

"  Do  you  understand  me,  Henry  ?" 

''  Yes,  ma'am,"  was  the  reply  of  the  drowsy  coachman. 

A  footfall  on  the  pavement.  The  two  girls  simultaneously 
thrust  their  heads  from  the  carriage  window.  Breathlessly  they 
awaited  the  advancing  steps.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  came, 
until  they  were  distinctly  audible  just  behind  the  carriage. 

The  girls  grasped  each  other  in  silence.  Neither  spoke,  as  they 
caught  the  dim  outline  of  a  man,  evidently  making  his  way 
towards  the  carriage.  He  paused  near  the  open  door.  Evangel- 
ine leaned  out  until  their  faces  almost  met.  Her  eyes  searched 
his  features  by  the  pale  light.  It  was  not  Harry,  only  some  one 
who  had  come  to  escort  a  wife  or  sister  from  church.  As  she  fell 
back  in  the  carriage,  she  pressed  Mary's  hand  convulsively, 
lieaved  a  heavy  sigh,  but  no  word  escaped  her  lips. 

The  audience  commenced  to  leave  the  cliurch.  Evangeline 
repeated  her  command  to  the  driver,  alighted,  quietly  closed  the 
door,  and  sought  the  deep  shade  of  the  building.  The  carriage 
drove  slowly  off.  Almost  fearing  to  breathe,  lest  siie  might 
arrest  the  attention  of  some  one,  Evangeline  remained  motionless, 
ensconced  in  her  dark  hiding-place.  Group  after  group  moved 
off,  and  she  was  left  alone.  She  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  her 
situation.  Dark  fears  shot  through*her  mind,  but  she  dismissed 
them  in  a  moment  as  ill-omened  guests.  The  sexton  extinguished 
the  lights,  swung  to  the  ponderous  front  doors,  locked  them,  and 
descending  the  steps,  walked  away  humming  a  low  air. 


33 G  EAIDS    AND   EOMANXE 

Tliej  appeared  hours,  those  few  minutes  of  racking*  uncertainty. 
The  lone,  trembling  girl,  hid  away  in  the  deep  shidow  of  that 
silent  church,  experienced  the  varied  emotions  of  a  1  fotime,  while 
her  throbbing  heart  pulsated  but  fleeting  moments.  Wonder  we 
at  that  marked  stamp  of  maturity  that  characterizes  the  manner 
and  countenance  of  some  young  beings  who  cross  our  life-path  as 
we  journey  onward  ?  Ah,  the  heart  doth  often  w^rite  dowi*  in  its 
own  ineffaceable  record  the  sufferings  and  experience  of  many 
years,  while  the  hand  but  moves  in  time's  great  dial-plate. 

What  dread,  what  apprehension,  what  doubt,  what  sinkinjr  sor- 
row%  swayed  the  bosom  of  Evangeline,  as  she  felt  the  peril  of  lier 
position  ?  Not  for  herself  cared  she.  It  was  for  him  whom  her 
soul  loved  with  all  the  intensity  of  its  passionate,  clinging  ardor. 
How  unselfish  is  pure,  young  love  !  IIow  ready  to  immolate  itself 
on  the  altar  of  its  idol's  happiness!  Building  its  own  pyre,  it 
looks  gladly  up,  and  rejoices  while  it  reads  in  the  preparation  for 
its  fearful  doom  the  immortality  of  its  own  beloved  Psyche.  To 
the  tear-dimmed  eye  this  earth  is  waste  and  barren,  and  time  and 
selfish  interest  eat  out  the  good  from  man's  heart  as  it  obdurates 
under  their  ossifying  touch.  But  in  the  fresh,  glad  spring-time  of 
youth,  flowers  bud  an<l  bloom,  and  send  abroad  sweet  fragrance, 
and  the  whisperings  of  angels  speak  to  life,  in  the  soul  of  unsullied 
innocence,  rapturous  emotions  akin  to  those  that  swell  the  bosoms 
of  celestial  beings. 

The  noise  of  the  carriage-wheels  moving  slowly  over  the  boldered 
street  caught  Evangeline's  eager  ear.  Uncertain  whether  it  was 
Mary,  she  remained  under  cover  of  the  darkness.  She  listened 
attentively.  It  came  tardily  on  to  the  corner,  turned,  and  Henry's 
voice  called  out,  "  Whoa,  whoal" 

She  forsook  her  covert  and  stepped  to  the  carriage 

*'  Not  yet,  Evangeline?" 

"Not  yet,  Mary."  After  a  lapse  of  time  she  said,  "He  wiii 
not  come,  Mary.  Harry  will  not  come.  My  heart  tells  me  so.  1 
felt  it  as  I  stood  yonder  beneath  that  frowning  wall," 

She  spoke  with  the  determination  of  desperation,  and  the  voice 
so  cold,  so  hollow,  fell  fearfully  on  Mary's  ear. 

"Oh,  do  not  despair.  It  is  time  yet.  Get  in  the  carriage,  and 
we  will  wait  here.  There  are  several  minutes  yet  to  half-pas' 
nine,  and  I  do  not  expect  hira  before  then." 

"Don't  you,  Mary?"  asked  Evangeline,  sadly,  as  she  seated 
herself  in  the  carriage,  and  leaned  her  bead  on  Mary's  shoulder. 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  337 

"Ah  me,  I  fear  he  will  not  come,"  she  added  hopelessly.  "Per- 
haps— perhaps — " 

The  words  died  out  on  her  lips.  She  could  not  trust . herself 
with  speaking  the  fears  that  haunted  her  soul. 

Twice  aj^ain  during  the  ten  minutes  of  eager  expectation  that 
followed,  Evangeline's  ear  was  mocked  by  the  sound  of  some  one 
coming  towards  tlie  carriage.  Each  time  she  started  up,  waited 
until  the  individual  passed  by,  then  fell  back  with  a  groan  into 
her  original  position.  Mary's  arm  stole  gently  around  the  languid 
form.  She  felt  how  deeply  Evangeline  needed  words  of  comfort. 
But  how  could  she,  convinced  as  she  now  was,  that  there  was  no 
longer  hope  left,  contirme  to  offer  words  of  cheer  or  consolation? 

Minute  succeeded  minute.  Oh,  how  wearily  they  dragged  them- 
selves across  the  tortured  heart  of  the  expectant  girl!  The  old 
cathedral  clock  rung  out  the  hour  of  ten. 

Evangeline  fell  on  her  friend's  bosom  and  gasped  out — "  Too 
late !  too  late !  he  will  not  come  ;  we  must  go."  Henry  was  or- 
dered to  drive  back  to  Mrs.  Purdy's.  More  dead  than  living,  Evan- 
geline lay,  every  sense  benumbed  by  the  weight  of  disappointment. 
She  did  not  attempt  to  speak.  She  did  not  move;  her  low  still 
breathing  was  scarcely  perceptible.  Marjf  took  her  icy  hands  in 
hers  and  chafed  them  gently,  and  smoothed  back  from  the  rigid 
brow  the  sheet  of  raven  hair. 

"If  Mr.  Terrant  is  awaiting  Miss  Evangeline,  tell  him  she  is 
with  me,"  said  Mary  to  the  driver,  as  she  assisted  the  almost  life- 
less form  of  Evangeline  to  ascend  the  front  steps.  Supporting 
her  as  well  as  she  could,  Mary  rang  the  bell ;  the  servant  answered 
tardily.  "Assist  me  up  stairs  with  Miss  Evangeline,"  she  said  to 
the  girl  in  a  low  tone.     "  Do  not  make  any  noise." 

*•  Is  Miss  'Vangie  sick,  Miss  Mary  ?"  asked  the  girl,  rubbing  her 
sleepy  eyes. 

"  She  is  not  well,  Kate.     Has  Mrs.  Purdy  retired  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  ma'am,  been  in  bed  long  time.  Missis  got  such  a 
headache." 

Noiselessly  Evangeline  was  conducted  along  the  hall  and  up  the 
stairway  to  Mary's  room.  Reaching  it,  she  threw  herself  on  the 
bed,  but  spoke  not. 

"Some  fresh  water,  Kate;  ice-water." 

"While  the  girl  prepared  the  cooler  for  water,  Mary  raised  the 
form  of  Evangeline  and  took  off  her  hat.  She  then  loosed  her 
clothes  and  removed  her  shoes,  and  rubbed  her  face  and  hands. 

"  Here,  Evangeline,  take  this  water,  it  will  refresh  you ;"  and 
15 


338  RAIDS    AMD    KOMANCE 

she  poured  a  glass  of  ice-water  from  tlie  pitcher  the  girl  had 
brought,  and  turning  into  it  a  tea-spoonful  of  sal.  volatile,  she 
placed  it  to  Evangeline's  lips.  She  drank,  and  looking  up  into 
Mary's  face,  whispered,  "  He  did  not  come,  Mary,  he  did  not 
come." 

''  You  can  go  down  now,  Kate,  Miss  Evangeline  is  better." 

"If  you  need  me  to-night.  Miss  Mary,  ring  the  bell,  and  I'll 
come;"  and  the  girl  placed  the  water  on  the  washstand  and  left 
the  room. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  the  servant,  Evangeline  sprang  up, 
and  throwing  her  arms  about  Mary,  who  sat  on  the  bed  beside  her, 
hurst  into  tears.  She  wept  persistently  for  some  time.  Her  sur- 
charged heart  found  relief  from  its  crushing  burden,  and  after  a 
lapse  of  time,  she  said,  looking  sadly,  beseechingly  at  her  friend  : 

''  Oh  !  tell  me,  tell  me,  Mary,  why  did  not  Harry  come?" 

''I  cannot  tell,  Evangeline.  He  could  not  get  out.  Perhaps 
the  guard  deceived  him." 

"  You  did  not  hear  any  shooting,  Mary,  did  you  ?" 

''  Oh  no,  Evangeline ;  Harry  is  safe,  no  doubt." 

"  But  in  that  horrid  prison,"  she  responded,  shaking  her  head 
slowly,  and  gazing  out  into  the  room  despairingly.  "  He  said  he 
would  come.  It  was  all  arranged,  I  know  it  was  ;  he  understood 
all  the  signs,  and  answered  them  all.  I  wonder  why  he  disap- 
pointed me?" 

"  He  could  not  carry  out  his  plans,  Mary  ;  he  has  been  deceived 
in  some  way." 

''  And  if  he  was  discovered  they'll  put  him  in  irons,  Mary,  and 
send  him  to  Camp  Chase.  Oh  1  I  shall  never  again  see  him  1  never, 
never!"  and  again  she  wept  bitterly. 

Mary  endeavored  to  soothe  her,  to  bid  her  hope.  But  how  can 
the  heart  hope  when  it  is  breaking  ? 

A  thousand  reasons  presented  themselves  to  the  tortured  mind 
of  Evangeline,  but  nothing  was  satisfactory.  Around  each  sug- 
gestion gathered  doubt,  uncertainty,  fear.  Over  all  hovered  the 
incubus  of  disappointed  expectation. 

Throughout  the  night  Mary  watched  beside  her.  Sometimes 
she  slept  fitfully,  at  others  wept,  and  then  again,  with  seeming 
composure,  she  would  converse  over  her  bitter  trial. 

"Could  Lasley  have  thwarted  me,  Mary?"  she  asked,  as  the 
two  lay,  at  the  midnight  hour,  vainly  endeavoring  to  unravel  the 
mystery. 

"No,  no,  Evangeline;  it  cannot  be.     What  influence  has  Ed. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    HIS    MEN.  339 

Kv  l,„.t";:  ,1:::  ^■;;i::';:;;::;s:;:-  --"^  '■'»---«».. 


ca,mot  tell  Mary.     But  there  comes  over  mea  vague  feelin^ 
at   ,,nes  a,„,M,„t,„g  ,o  conviction,  that  heis  tl,e  autl.or  of  a  1 1  i"'-! 

~::::t  v:'rv-:-^-^  r  ^.^"">-  -  overturn';::, 


i  on  ,lo  hun  injustice,  Evangie.     I  am  assure,!  he  has 
at.on  enough  to  discover  your  secret,  or  ability  to  overturn  vonr 
«    angements.     No,  no;    it  is  not  Ed!  Lasley  that  has    lone  ,1.  - 
Tl  e  guard  1ms  either  deceived  or  betrayed  Harrv      W-  ?T 
geline,  a  few^ours  may  disclose  it  all  "  ^^         ""'  ^'''"■ 

in:bc:r  r-  ^xL^iz^t-^r  "-r  "^  -  -^  .»>■  >.-^- 

Larry  is 
not  to  live.' 


;  '"7''  -;-.  ^--i'T.     ^tern  necessity  demands  it  of  mv  break 
•    nitrisl^;;'/'-  '"^  <^--^f"l  to  bear  this  wasting     nx,. 
nof^  r: ''^^^  ^^  -^^  ^-^y^  ^h-  life  to  me  is  worthLs-1 1' 


340  EAIDS   AND   EOMANCE 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

MOXDAY,    SEPTEMBER    22,    1862. 

Bright,  beantifully  bright,  as  if  the  angel  of  light  and  glory  had 
spread  her  pinions  over  the  earth,  opened  the  morning  of  this  day 
so  memorable  in  the  annals  of  Louisville.  And  with  the  uprising 
of  its  multitudes  of  men,  came  what  hopes,  what  doubts,  what 
fears ! 

During  the  previous  week  ditches  had  been  dug  and  guns  mount- 
ed, so  as  to  circumvallate  the  city  from  the  river  on  the  east  to  the 
river  on  the  west.  Thousands  of  men,  impressed  into  service,  had 
toiled,  beside  the  soldiery,  to  prepare  "  defences  against  the  rebels 
under  Bragg."  The  fears  of  the  near-sighted  and  unwary  had 
been  stilled  by  this  semblance  of  strength,  and  many  there  were 
who  regarded  their  little  treasures  as  safe  from  the  "  vandal  foot" 
of  Southrons,  as  if  some  genii,  in  answer  to  Aladdin's  lamp,  had 
transported  them  to  Central  Africa.  But  others — the  wise  and 
prudent — knew  and  felt  how  little  resistance  these  pits,  dug  in  the 
very  outskirts  of  the  place,  would  offer  to  veteran  troops  deter- 
mined to  secure  a  foothold  in  this  "  Union  stronghold."  They 
were  not  to  be  misled  by  this  mere  show  of  safety,  and  fearfully 
did  they  open  their  eyes  to  the  certainty  that  General  Bragg  could 
take  Louisville  if  he  desired  to  do  so.  With  sucE,  all  was  fearful 
apprehension.  At  an  early  hour  the  streets  were  thronged  with 
the  unquiet  multitude,  eager  for  the  morning  news. 

"  Bragg  had  left  Mumfordsville,  where  he  had  defeated  the  Fed- 
erals, captured  over  4,000  prisoners  with  all  their  accoutrements, 
and  was  marching  in  heavy  force  towards  the  city."  This  was  the 
news  that  ran  from  hp  to  lip — arousing  the  hopes  of  Southern 
hearts  who  were  panting  for  deliverance,  and  filling  with  gloom 
and  anxiety  the  bosoms  of  Lincoln's  supporters.  Men  were  at 
work  on  the  intrenchments ;  regiments  were  paraded  through  the 
thoroughfares  to  impress  the  public  with  a  feeling  of  security. 
Forces  were  constantly  being  crossed  over  from  Jeffersonville  to 
take  position  among  the  defenders  of  the  city.  OflScers  dashed 
through  the  streets  on  horseback,  all  eager  in  the  accomplishment 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  341 

of  suitable  preparations  to  meet  the  enemy.  Cannon  rattled  along, 
followed  by  the  shouts  and  yells  of  boys  and  darkies.  Union  flags 
waved  from  Union  windows.  Cavalry,  with  rushing  tramp  and 
clanking  swords,  swept  from  point  to  point.  Everywhere  the 
work  went  on  ;  everywhere  were  signs  of  confusion  and  fearful 
looking  for  danger.  Men's  hearts  failed  them  as  they  thought  of 
the  coming  conflict. 

Suddenly  the  news  ran  through  the  streets,  "  General  Nelson 
has  issued  an  order  for  all  the  women,  children,  and  non-combat- 
ants to  leave  the  city."  It  sped  from  tongue  to  tongue,  until  it 
reached  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  town.  Had  there  been 
written  on  the  clear  azure  above,  in  characters  of  living  light,  the 
fearful  doom  of  all  mankind,  darker  and  more  dire  panic  could  not 
have  seized  the  hearts  of  men  and  women.  What  had  been  pain- 
fully contingent  before  was  now  a  most  appalling  reality.  Bragg 
was  at  the  very  gates  of  the  city,  and  Nelson  declared,  rather  than 
it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels,  he  would  fight  hand  to 
hand  through  the  streets  ;  and  then,  if  he  were  compelled  to  evac- 
uate and  cross  to  the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  he  would  plant 
'his  guns  on  the  Indiana  shore  and  shell  it  until  every  house  was 
demoHshed  before  the  enemy  should  hold  it.  Nelson  was  known 
to  be  a  reckless,  desperate  man,  always  ready  for  any  rash,  un- 
natural act,  and  each  individual  considered  not  only  his  property, 
but  his  life,  in  jeopardy.  In  less  than  a  half-hour  from  the  first 
faint  rumor  of  the  baneful  order,  every  house  seemed  to  have 
emptied  its  inmates  into  the  already  thronged  streets  ;  men,  pale 
and  trembling,  eagerly  asking  of  every  responsible  friend  they  met 
if  the  rumor  was  really  true.  "Women  weeping  and  wringing  their 
hands  in  agony;  children  affrighted,  and  aroused  by  that  sense  of 
dread  and  anxiety  which  the  young  always  feel  under  excitement, 
dashed  wildly  to  and  fro.  Everybody  appeared  frenzied,  de- 
void of  both  reason  and  method. 

The  order  had  been  issued.  Bragg  was  within  a  few  miles  of 
the  city,  and  the  battle  would  begin  in  a  few  hours.  Then  came 
the  fearful  rush  of  thousands,  eager  to  escape  the  dreadful  doom 
of  conflict.  Every  vehicle,  from  the  most  superb  hack  down  to  the 
rickety  old  dray,  was  impressed  into  the  service  of  transporting 
families  to  a  place  of  refuge.  Clothes  were  hastily  thrown  into 
trunks,  which  trunks  were  thrown  into  drays,  furniture  wagons, 
omnibuses,  carriages,  hacks,  or  whatever  vehicle  could  be  obtained, 
and  driven  at  pell-mell  speed  to  the  wharf.  Houses,  with  every 
thing  in  them  turned  upside  down,  were  hastily  cleared  and  con- 


34:2  KAIDS    AND    KOMaNCE 

signed  by  their  fleeing  owners  to  the  fate  of  war.  Babes  were 
snatched  from  the  cradle,  and,  wrapped  up  in  any  tiling  that  could 
afford  protection  from  the  chill  air  of  autumn,  were  pressed  to  the 
tlirobbing  bosom  of  the  distracted  mother,  and  borne  to  one  of  the 
boats  that  stood  waiting  to  convey  them  to  the  opposite  shore. 
The  river-bank  was  thronged  with  fearful  crowds,  all  anxious  to  , 
'secure  a  speedy  transit  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  Ohio. 

As  each  hour  passed,  rumors  became  more  and  more  numerous, 
more  and  more  terrible.  ''Bragg  had  whipped  BuelPs  forces  and 
cut  them  to  pieces,  and  was  now  halting  outside  the  city,  deiuaud- 
iug  its  surrender.  Dozens  of  persons  had  seen  his  truce-flag 
borne  along  the  streets  ;  others,  who  had  ascended  the  roof  of  the 
Custom-house,  had  seen,  with  the  aid  of  glasses,  his  whole  army 
only  a  few  miles  out,  awaiting  the  return  of  the  flag  of  truce. 

As  Nelson  had  sworn  he  would  never  surrender,  it  was  believed 
the  city  would  be  immediately  attacked,  mid  the  expectant  ears 
of  the  panic-stricken  fugitives,  as  they  sped  the  streets,  or  lined 
the  wharf,  or  pursued  the  various  roads  that  communicated  with 
the  countr}-,  eagerly  listened  for  the  first  booming  of  the  death- 
dealing  cannon. 

Evening  came,  but  brought  no  attack.  Yet  the  excitement  was 
not  one  whit  abated.  StiU  the  stream  continued  to  outpour. 
Everywhere  new  reports  sprang  into  life,  and  were  caught  up  by 
eager  listeners  and  repeated  as  truths,  until  to  walk  one  square 
and  hear  the  varied  recitals  that  met  you,  was  to  grow  bewildered 
and  doubt  the  truth  of  all. 

At  one  corner  you  would  hear  that  Bragg  had  completely  anni- 
hilated Buell's  army.  At  the  next  corner,  you  would  learn  from 
a  source  equally  as  veracious,  that  Buell  had  encountered  Bragg 
and  routed  his  army,  scattering  it  in  every  direction.  One  would 
assert  as  a  fact  wholly  unquestionable,  that  General  Bragg  would 
certainly  reach  the  city  that  niglit ;  another  would  declare  that  he 
knew  beyond  contradiction  that  Bragg  had  but  twenty-five  thou- 
sand men,  and  that  he  would  not  dare  to  venture  upon  the  place. 
Shops  and  storehouses  of  all  descriptions  were  closed,  their  alarm- 
ed owners  having  fled,  leaving  behind  them  every  thing  that  would 
embarrass  their  precipitate  exodus. 

Evening  came — yet  the  frightful  rush  continued,  and  when  the 
chill  September  night  fell  down  over  the  earth,  thousands  of 
the  citizens  of  Louisville,  without  any  comforts,  many  destitute 
of  even  a  shelter  from  the  night  air,  were  congregated  in  Jeffer- 
sonville,  N'ew  Albany,  and  other  points  on  the  Indiana  shore. 


OF   MORGAN    AND    1113    MEN.  343 

Many  of  the  more  wealtliy  had  gone  to  Cincinnati  and  Indianap- 
opolis;  while  others,  unwiUing  to  attempt  to  seek  safety  on  free 
soil,  had  moved  out  by  every  possible  means  into  the  nearest 
towns  and  the  contiguous  counties.  The  prisoners  had  all  been 
forwarded  to  Camp  Chase,  and  many  of  the  military  oflScials  had 
made  full  arrangements  to  depart  at  the  first  appearance  of  neces- 
sity. 

Meanwhile,  General  Bragg  was  quietly  pursuing  his  way  to 
Bardstown,  having  diverged  from  the  direct  route  to  Louisville  at 
llodgenville,  some  thirty  miles  from  tiie  city.  Beaching  Bards- 
town in  the  forenoon  of  that  memorable  day,  he  halted  his  weary 
troops  for  rest,  and  immediately  sent  out  detachments  of  cavalry 
on  all  the  routes  leading  towards  the  city  ;  which  movement  being 
made  known,  gave  rise  to  the  belief  that  it  was  his  intention 
to  approach  by  the  various  roads  that  led  from  tlie  vicinity  of 
Bardstown  to  Louisville;  and  all  who  ventured  out  in  that  direc- 
tion expected  to  meet  the  heavy  columns  of  triumphant  Confeder- 
ates marching  on  to  the  certain  capture  of  the  town.  It  was  also 
beheved  by  many  that  General  Kirby  Smith's  forces  were  advan- 
cing from  LexingtX)n  by  way  of  Shelbyville,  to  form  a  junction 
with  Bragg,  and  thus  simultaneously  attack  the  town  from  two 
diiierent  points. 

"  What  is  the  news,  Mrs.  Purdy  ?''  asked  Mary  and  Evange- 
line in  the  same  breath,  as  that  lady  entered  the  room  heated, 
flushed,  and  trembling  with  atfright.  ••'  Oh,  tell  me,  Mrs.  Purdy, 
tell  me!"  gasped  Evangeline,  as  she  started  up  in  the  bed  from 
which  she  had  not  yet  riseu. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  Mrs.  Purdy  had  just 
returned  from  market.  Without  waiting  below  to  lay  aside  her 
bonnet  and  shawl,  she  hastened  up  stairs,  sought  Mary's  room, 
and  disregarding  the  ceremony  of  rapping  at  the  door,  entered 
with  an  expression  of  terror  on  her  countenance. 

Evangeline  sat  in  bed,  her  hands  clasped,  and  staring  up  into 
Mrs.  Purdy's  face,  as  if  she  would  read  therefrom  the  dread  secret 
of  her  alarm.  Mary  rose  and  conducted  her  to  the  sofa.  lu 
interrupted  sentences  the  terrified  woman  informed  the  girls  of 
the  fearful  order  and  the  imminent  peril  of  the  city. 

Xot  a  word  of  reply  was  spoken.  The  three  sat  in  silence, 
borror-strickeu.  After  a  lapse  of  some  moment--,  Evangeline  ex- 
claimed, "Can  this  be  true,  Mrs.  Purdy,  or  is  it  only  a  rumor?" 

"True,  Evangeline — true,  child.  I  saw  Mr.  Middleton,  who 
had  just  returned  from  the  office  of  the  Journal^  and  he  told  me 


S4A  EAIDS    AND   EOMANCE 

that  Shipranu  told  him  the  order  liad  been  issued  by  General  Nel- 
son, and  would  appear  on  the  bulletin-boards  as  soon  as  it  could 
be  printed." 

"  And  what  shall  we  do — what  sliall  we  do  ?"  asked  Evangeline, 
imploringly,  springing  from  the  bed  to  the  side  of  the  yet  trem- 
bling woman. 

"  Leave,  leave — we  must  leave  !"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

"And  where  must  we  go,  Mrs.  Purdy ?"  asked  Mary,  quickly, 
as  the  hope  sprung  up  in  her  heart  of  getting  to  her  father. 

"  Anywhere,  anywhere,  where  we  will  be  safe.  Hundreds  are 
already  on  tlieir  way  to  Cincinnati  and  Indiana." 

"  And  would  you  go  across  the  river,  Mrs.  Purdy  ?  Would  you 
seek  safety  in  the  midst  of  our  enemies  ?" 

"  I  cannot  stop  now,  Mary,  to  debate  differences.  To  secure 
the  preservation  of  my  own  life  and  the  life  of  my  child  is  now 
my  first  business."  ^ 

"And  is  the  city  certainly  to  be  shelled,  Mrs.  Purdy  ?" 

"  General  Nelson  says  so." 

"  And  what  will  be  done  with  the  prisoners  ?  Are  they  to  be 
kept  shut  up  to  take  their  chances  for  life  or  death  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Evangeline.  I  heard  no  mention  of  them. 
Perhaps  the  morning  paper  says  something  about  it.  Here,  I 
have  one  in  my  pocket.  Didn't  have  time  to  look  at  it.  Maybe 
you  will  find  there  what  is  to  be  done  with  them,"  she  said,  as 
she  handed  the  sheet  to  Evangehne,  who  took  it,  and  hastily  ran 
her  eye  up  and  down  the  columns. 

"  I  must  go  and  pack  my  trunk,  and  be  ready  to  be  oflP  as  soon 
as  possible.     Mary,  will  you  go  witli  me  ?" 

''  TThere  are  you  going,  Mrs.  Purdy  ?" 

"To  my  cousins,  at  Hanover,  Indiana.  It  is  the  only  placf* 
where  I  can  go." 

"No,  Mrs.  Purdy,  I  shall  never  cross  ^he  river  to  seek  for 
safety.     I  will  die  on  Kentucky  soil  first." 

"But  I  cannot  leave  you,  Mary." 

"  Oh,  don't  give  yourself  a  moment's  thought  about  me.  I  will 
take  care  of  myself.  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  Confederates,  if  they 
should  come ;  and  if  Nelson  should  be  wild  enough  to  try  to  shel^ 
them  out,  I  will  go  to  the  country." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  trust  yourself  here,  Mary  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Purdy,  in  surprise,  as  she  turned  from  the  door  to  look  back  upon 
the  heroic  girl.  "  Stay  here  and  be  killed  !  You  will  have  no 
time  to  get  away  when  the  fight  is  raging  everywhere." 


,  OF  MORGAN   AND    HIS   MEN.  345 

"I  cannot  go  to  Indiana,  Mrs.  Purdj.  I  will  not  piace  myself 
beyond  the  reach  of  my  brother  and  father,  and  all  who  are  my 
friends.  No,  no;  I'll  remain  on  my  native  soil,  and  take  the 
chances.  Hut  do  not  let  me  interrupt  your  arrangements.  I  will 
go  out  to  Mr.  K.'s,  and  whatever  they  think  best,  I  will  do." 

Mrs.  Purdy  left  the  room,  wondering  that  anybody  should 
stand,  at  a  juncture  so  critical,  upon  a  question  of  difference  of 
opinion. 

As  the  door  closed,  Evangeline  ejaculated,  "  To  Camp  Chase, 
Mary,  to  Camp  Chase!" 

"  Who,  Evangeline — the  prisoners  ?" 

"  Yes— to-day,  at  twelve  o'clock.     I  must  see  Harry." 

"And  are  you  going  to  remain  here,  Evangeline?" 

"  Oh,  Mary,  Mary,  I  know  not  what  to  do.  I  am  bewildered, 
my  brain  reels.  My  uncle  cannot  go  with  me.  All  the  men  capa- 
ble of  bearing  arras  are  to  be  kept  for  the  defence  of  the  city.  I 
cannot  go  myself.  I  cannot  remain  if  Harry  is  taken  away. 
What  shall  I  do— what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"  Go  with  me,  Evangeline." 

"  And  where  will  you  go,  Mary  ?" 

"  Through  the  Confederate  lines  to  my  father  and  brother." 

''But  how  will  you  get  through,  Mary?  Who  will  go  with 
you  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.     There  will  be  some  way  of  escape  for  me." 

"  But  if  Harry  is  to  be  sent  to  Camp  Chase,  I  must  keep  within 
Federal  lines.  You  know  I  have  no  one  to  rely  on,  if  he  cannot 
escape,  but  Union  friends,  wiio  will  never  go  beyond  Federal 
limits.  Oh,  that  Harry  had  but  escaped  last  night!  then  would  I 
gladly  go  with  you." 

The  door-bell  rang.     Evangeline  shuddered. 

"  Who  or  what  can  that  be  ?  The  least  noise  affrights  me. 
My  heart  forebodes  evil.     What  if  Harry  is  dead  ?" 

"  Oh,  Evangeline,  that  cannot  be.  The  morning  paper  would 
have  mentioned  any  occurrence  of  the  kind,  and  the  streets  would 
be  filled  with  it." 

"  Not  now,  Mary.  Every  one  is  too  much  engaged  looking  to 
his  own  welfare  to  regard  the  fate  of  another." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  the  sentence  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Mrs.  Spalding  entered,  trembling,  as  Mrs.  Purdy,  with  alarm, 
without  waiting  to  bid  the  girls  good-morning,  said,  "I  have 
called,  Mary,  to  take  you  home  with  me.  The  city  is  to  be 
shelled  in  an  hour,  they  say.     Get  your  bonnet  on  immediately, 

15* 


346  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

and  go  witli  nie.  Yon  will  then  be  beyond  present  danger.  And 
you,  too,  Evangie,  there  is  room  for  you.  Wljy,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter, child,  are  you  sick  ?  you  look  so  pale  and  worn.  Don't  be 
alarmed.  There  is  no  possibility  of  your  being  hurt  at  pa's, 
unless  the  battle  should  be  fought  out  in  that  direction,  and  then 
we  would  fall  further  back— go  to  Bardstown  or  Lebanon.  Dress 
yourself  quickly.     The  carriage  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes." 

'•Do,  Evangeline,  go  with  us,  I  cannot  leave  you,"  said  Mary, 
beseechingly,  as  she  hastened  from  drawer  to  wardrobe,  and  fr(;m 
wardrobe  to  trunk,  gathering  up  a  few  needed  articles  of  clothing. 

Evangeline  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  remained  silent. 
Then  looking  up,  she  said,  "  No,  no,  I  cannot  go.     I  remain  here." 

"Stay  in  the  city,  Evangeline,  and  it  being  shelled!  Why  this 
is  foil}' — rashness.  You  must  go  with  me — must  go.  There  is  no 
choice  left.  Y<»ur  aunt  is  away.  Your  uncle  will  not  be  permit- 
ted to  leave.  You  cannot  go  alone — to  remain  here  is  impossible. 
You  must  go  with  me.  I  cannot  leave  you  here.  Come,  get  on 
your  dress,  we  have  no  time  to  lose,  the  fight  may  begin  at  any 
hour.  Hush  !  wasn't  that  the  report  of  cannon  ?''  and  Mrs.  Spald- 
ing sprang  to  the  window,  and  hastily  throwing  it  up,  listened 
with  trembling  fear. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  again  the  report  of  cannon  sounded 
out  on  the  air. 

"It  is — it  is!"  she  exclaimed,  springing  back,  her  eyes  starting 
from  their  sockets.  "  It  is  cannonading,  perhaps  the  conflict  has 
already  begun.  Evangeline,  Evangeline  !  do  come.  Oh,  do — in  a 
moment.  Don't  sit  there.  See,  Mary  is  almost  ready.  And  Mrs. 
Purdy  has  her  trunk  packed,  and  has  sent  out  for  a  carriage  to 
take  her  to  the  boat.     Dress,  dress,  or  you  will  be  too  late." 

'•  I  cannot  go,  Lu.  Oh  !  I  cannot,"  she  said,  emphatically.  "I 
must  stay  with  my  uncle." 

"  Stay  with  your  uncle,  Evangeline!  TThat  good  can  you  do? 
You  only  endanger  your  own  life.  General  Nelson  says  all  the 
women  and  children  must  leave  the  city.  It  will  be  shelled,  and 
if  necessary,  to  prevent  its  faUiug  into  our  hands,  shall  be  burnt. 
Come,  there  is  Mr.  Spalding.  Get  up,  get  up,  and  dress  your- 
self." 

"Oh,  Evangie,  do  go,"  said  Mary,  throwing  her  arms  about  the 
neck  of  the  pale,  wan  girl.  ''Do  go,  Evangie.  It  is  of  no  avail 
for  you  to  stay  here.  The  matter  cannot  be  altered.  We  must, 
submit." 

Evangeline  looked  up  at  her  friend.    Her  eyes  were  red  with 


OF   M0RGA2^   AND    HIS   MEN.  347 

the  weeping  of  the  past  niglit,  and  on  her  face  there  rested  a  sad 
and  anxious  expression.  But  her  compressed  hps,  and  the  fixed 
h>ok  of  those  expressive  black  eyes,  told  all  too  plainly  of  her  re- 
solved purpose. 

"Do  not  ask  me,  Mary.  I  must  remain  here.  You  know  my 
reasons.  I  should  be  miserable  in  Confederate  lines,  where  I 
could  bear  nothing,  and  life  is  not  worth  preserving  now.  I  can- 
not go." 

"But  what  will  you  dcj^Evangeline?" 

"Oh,  I  cannot  tell.     There  will  be  some  way  opened  for  me." 
"  But  I  cannot  leave  you  so." 

"  Yes,  Mary,  you  must.  Do  not  delay  a  moment  for  me.  Al- 
ready you  may  be  endangered.  Go,  go,  and  leave  me.  I  will 
take  care  of  myself." 

"But  you  will  not  remain  here.  Mrs.  Purdy  will  be  off  in  a 
short  time,  and  the  house  will  be  closed." 

"No,  no,  I  shall  go  directly  home.  From  there  to  the  prison 
and  the  boat,"  she  whispered.  "I  may  perchance  see  him  once 
more." 

Mary  threw  her  arms  about  her  neck  and  burst  into  tears. 
"  Oh,  Evangie,  we  may  never  meet  again.  Good-by,"  and  she 
kissed  her  again  and  again. 

Evangeline  spoke  not.  The  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes.  She 
strained  Mary  to  her  heart,  and  imprinted  a  farewell  kiss  upon  her 
lips,  and  the  two  parted — to  meet  no  more. 

Mrs.  Spalding  bade  her  good-by.  The  two  left  the  room,  and 
gaining  the  carriage,  drove  rapidly  out  to  the  country. 

Evangeline  dressed  herself  mechanically,  and  walked  home. 
She  found  her  uncle  gone,  and  all  the  servant's,  save  the  cook,  out 
on  the  street  to  hear  the  news.     The  clock  struck  eleven. 

"One  hour  more,  and  he  goes  from  me  forever.  Once  in  that 
horrid  prison,  and  he  will  never  come  out  again,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, mournfully,  as  she  closed  the  door  of  her  room,  and  set  out 
alone,  to  catch,  if  possible,  one  more  glimpse  of  the  beloved  form. 
She  drew  her  veil  closely  over  her  face,  and  proceeded  in  the 
direction  of  the  prison.  Everywhere  met  her  eyes  evidences  of 
the  terrible  panic  that  had  seized  the  people.  The  streets  were 
thronged  with  vehicles  carrying  away  women,  and  children,  and 
baggage.  The  side-walks  were  crowded  with  the  moving  masses, 
jostling  against  each  other,  as  each  rushed  along  in  pursuit  of  Lis 
own  particular  phantom. 

Quickly,  quietly,  she  threaded  her  way  along  the  streets,  regard- 


348  KATD8    AND   ROMANCE 

ing  nothing  but  her  own  safety  from  the  danger  of  being  thrown 
down.  Her  mind  was  filled  with  the  one  dread  thought,  that  of  not 
seeing  Harry  before  he  left.  As  she  neared  the  prison,  she  saw  a 
great  crowd  around  the  gateway.  Men  were  moving  about  as  if 
some  consternation  had  befallen  them,  and  on  lifting  her  veil  to 
endeavor  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  commotion,  she  saw  several 
soldiers  pass  in  and  through  the  dense  mass. 

"They  are  taking  the  prisoners  away,"  she  said,  and  with  one 
bound  she  pressed  forward  and  forced  herself  on  the  corner  of  the 
pavement  by  wLich  they  must  pass  on  their  way  to  the  river. 
Almost  ready  to  faint  with  emotion,  she  maintained  her  position 
as  well  as  she  could  amid  the  surging  movements  of  the  ever- 
changing  throng.  She  could  not  see  the  door  of  the  prison,  nor 
the  great  gate  guarded  by  its  sentinels.  Throwing  her  thick  veil 
aside,  and  shielding  her  face  from  the  peering  curiosity  of  the 
passer-by  as  well  as  she  could  with  her  hand,  she  looked  up  over 
the  heads  of  the  people  to  the  prison  windows.  A  few  forms 
stood  before  them.  Her  heart  bounded  as  she  fancied  she  caught 
a  ghmpse  of  Harry.  She  looked  again — the  form  was  gone.  Ea- 
gerly she  strained  her  eyes  upward,  each  moment  hoping  he  would 
reappear. 

"  What's  going  on  here  ?"  asked  one  man  of  another,  as  the  two 
met  on  the  pavement  near  where  Evangeline  was  standing  be- 
side another  female,  like  herself,  closely  veiled. 

"  Going  to  take  the  rebel  prisoners  to  Camp  Cliase.  Are  afraid 
Bragg  will  get  them." 

"  P>haw !  he'll  never  come  here.  Buell  will  cut  him  all  to 
pieces,  and  send  his  starving,  naked  vandals  flying  back  to  Dixie." 

"  Not  so  sure  of  that,  Mr.  Duncan.  Things  look  mighty  doubt- 
ful now,  I  tell  you.  The  order  of  ISTelson  means  a  great  deal. 
Desperate  struggle  ahead." 

"  Desperate  struggle,  Mr.  McAllister  !  Why,  you  don't  think 
80,  do  you?  Why,  the  starving,  naked,  cowardly  Southerners 
won't  fight.  They  haven't  got  any  arms  to  fight  with.  Some  old 
flint-lock  guns,  and  now  and  then  a  man  with  a  squirrel  rifle. 
What  can  such  a  people  do?  Our  men  can  whip  them  out  in  an 
hour  and  not  half  try. 

''  Don't  feel  so  certain  about  that,"  said  the  old  man,  looking 
searchingly  into  his  friend's  face  to  see  if  he  was  not  quizzing 
him.  "Don't  feel  certain — not  at  all  certain,  sir.  I  used  to  be- 
lieve these  tales  about  these  rebels  being  starved  and  naked,  and 
having  no  guns;   but  I  tell  you,  sir,  when  they  are  right  here 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  349 

ready  to  overrun  ns,  and  we  have  got  so  many  men,  it  looks 
mighty  strange,  sir.     Makes  a  man  think,  I  tell  you." 

"But  Prentice  tells  you  not  to  fear,  they  are  nothing  but  a 
handful  of  meii,  made  desperate  because  they  have  got  no  bread 
and  bacon  ;  and  he  is  good  authority,  sir." 

"  Confound  old  Prentice.  I  used  to  believe  all  he  said.  But  I 
tell  you,  sir,  he's  lied  about  these  rebels.  Needn't  tell  me  any 
longer  they  are  cowards,  when  they  stand  right  here  threatening 
this  city.  All  a  mistake,  sir,  all  a  mistake.  They've  got  plenty 
of  spunk.  Pve  been  down  South,  and  I  know  what  they  are. 
Prentice  needn't  tell  me  they  won't  fight." 

"  Oil,  but  Buell  will  whip  them  out.  Don't  be  alarmed.  He 
will  manage  them." 

"  Not  so  sure  of  that  either,  sir.  He  didn't  manage  them  down 
in  Tennessee.  I  don't  see  how  he's  going  to  do  it  now — they've 
got  the  start  of  him.  Mighty  fearful  Bragg  Avill  ruin  him,  and 
then  pounce  down  on  us,  and  ruin  us.  Needn't  tell  me,  Mr.  Dun- 
can. You're  a  Southern  man,  and  I  don't  believe  a  word  you've 
said.  You  are  only  laughing  at  me.  You  Southern  men  are  all 
in  fine  spirits.  Not  one  of  you  but  what  can  laugh  over  this  mat- 
ter, serious  as  it  is." 

"Pm  only  telling  you,  Mr.  McAllister,  what  Prentice  says.  "I 
tliought  he  was  the  cream  of  all  wisdom  and  truth.  As  to  w^hat 
I  believe,  that's  a  matter  of  small  moment ;  it  can't  possibly  atfect 
the  issue  either  way." 

"  Are  you  going  to  leave  Louisville,  Mr.  Duncan  ;  I  mean  your 
family  ?" 

"  No,  sir;  we  have  decided  to  remain  and  take  the  shelling." 

''  Yes,  that's  the  way  with  you  rebels ;  you  all  believe  Bragg's 
coming.  Not  one  of  you  is  going  to  budge  an  inch  ;  this  tells  the 
tale.  You  all  think  Bragg  will  be  here  in  a  few  hours.  Well, 
well,  it  may  be  so.  Good-by  ;  I  may  never  see  you  again,  for  if 
the  rebels  do  come,  I,  for  one,  will  leave ;  I  shan't  fall  into  their 
Lands."     The  two  bade  each  other  farewell  and  parted. 

Evangeline  had  listened  attentively  to  this  little  by-chat.  She 
would  fain  catch  at  any  promise  of  hope,  however  vague  and  un- 
certain. Could  the  Southerners  reach  the  city  before  the  prisoners 
were  sent  away,  Harry  would  be  saved.  Or  could  there  even 
spring  up  an  uncontrollable  excitement,  it  would  offer  some  hope 
of  deliverance. 

As  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  her  mind,  her  eys  were 
seeking  the  open  window,  desirous  to  catch  one  view  of  Harry. 


OijO  liAlDS   AlsD   KOMANCE 

Two  men  encountered  each  other  on  the  pavement  on  her  left. 
Their  words,  tiiough  spoken  in  an  ordinar}^  voice,  reached  lier  ear. 

"  What's  all  this,  going  on  iiere?"  asked  one  of  the  otiier. 

"  Going  to  take  the  rebel  prisoners  across  the  river ;  afraid  Bragg 
will  get  them  here." 

"Ah,  yes,  yes.  One  of  them  attempted  to  escape  last  night,  I 
believe,  didn't  he?"  remarked  the  elder  of  the  two  to  tlie  otlier. 
The  speaker  was  an  old  man,  with  wliite  hair,  sunken  blue  eyes, 
and  thin  pale  face.  He  leaned  on  his  cane  as  he  walked  along, 
being  stooped  in  the  shoulders. 

"  Did  he,  indeed  ?  I  had  not  heard  of  it,"  was  the  quick,  ner- 
vous reply  of  the  younger  gentleman. 

'•Yes — one  of  Morgan's  men  ;  they  are  perfect  dare-devils,  you 
know." 

"  And  did  he  succeed  ?"  Evangeline's  ready  ear  had  caught  the 
words  of  the  speaker.  She  stepped  forward  to  the  front  of  the 
pavement,  the  better  to  hear  the  thrilling  conversation. 

"  I  heard  that — "  The  old  gentleman  had  proceeded  thus  far 
with  his  reply,  when  a  rough,  brawny  man  knocked  up  against 
Evangeline,  almost  dashing  her  down.  She  lost  the  last  words  of 
the  answer,  for  before  she  could  recover  herself  the  gentlemen  were 
bidding  each  other  "  good-morning." 

Amazed,  distracted  at  the  uncertainty  in  which  she  found  her- 
self, she  looked  round  to  see  which  way  the  elderly  gentleman  had 
I)roceeded.  Her  strong  impulse  was  to  follow  him,  but  he  was 
lost  to  her  vision  amid  the  throng.  Turning  to  the  veiled  female 
who  stood  near  her,  wiio  she  hoped  might  have  heard  the  old 
gentleman's  answer,  she  asked  timidly  : 

"•  Did  you  hear  whether  one  of  Morgan's  men  escaped  from  the 
prison  last  night  ?" 

"No!"  said  the  girl,  astonishment  evident  in  her  tone.  "Did 
one  get  out  ?" 

"I  heard  something  said  about  one  of  them  attempting  to 
escape." 

"  I  do  hope  he  succeeded,"  the  female  replied,  without  raising 
her  veil,  only  turning  her  face  to  Evangeline.  "1  wonder  who  it 
was." 

"  I  did  not  hear  his  name.  Are  there  more  than  one  of  Morgan's 
men  there?" 

"Oh,  yes;  several.  I  have  an  acquaintance  in  prison,  young 
Koberts,  who  is  one  of  his  men." 

At  the  mention  of  this  name,  Evangeline  started.    Did  she  know 


OF   iiOKGAls    AND    HIS   MEN.  351 

the  female  staudiiig  beside  her?  Did  tlie  hidy  recognize  her? 
No,  else  she  would  have  assuredly  addressed  her  by  name. 

"The  prisoners  go  to  Cincinnati  to-day,"  said  Evangeline,  her 
curiosity  excited,  and  desiring  to  prolong  the  conversation,  hoping 
to  hear  something  that  would  throw  light  on  Harry's  dark  fate. 

"  Yes,  at  twelve  o'ch)ck.  1  have  an  uncle,  from  Owen  county, 
among  the  number,  and  I  am  waiting  here  to  see  him  as  he  passes. 
Poor  old  man!  he  has  beeu  in  prison  for  a  montii,  and  his  health 
is  so  feeble.  I  went  to  see  him  last  Thursday,  an<l  he  looked  so 
pale  and  thin  ;  he  can't  live  long  in  Camp  Chase.  Have  you  a 
friend  here?"  she  said,  extending  a  look  of  anxious  inquiry  upon 
Evangeline. 

"  Yes,"  said  Evangeline,  averting  her  head  as  she  felt  the  blood 
rising  to  her  cheeks. 

The  crowd  gave  way,  and  the  prisoners,  under  strong  guard, 
marched  from  the  gateway  to  the  middle  of  the  street  and  formed 
in  line.  Evangeline,  from  where  she  stood,  could  only  catch  a  view 
of  the  two  who  were  in  front.  She  scanned  their  features  closely 
as  they  sstood  with  bold  defiant  air  bent  on  the  gazing  gaping  as- 
semblage that  lined  the  sidewalk  on  either  hand. 

A  few  minutes  and  the  last  one  had  fallen  into  the  ranks.  Then 
cainfe  the  order,  '•'March  !"  With  elastic  step  and  stern  unyielding 
front,  the  head  of  the  column  reached  Fifth  and  turned  (»ut  to- 
wards the  river.  Scrutinizingly  Evangeline  searched  each  face. 
Pair  by  pair  went  on,  but  Harry  was  not  of  them,  '^  He  must 
have  escaped,"  said  Evangeline  to  herself,  beginning  to  feel  the 
risings  of  hope  in  her  bosom.  "  Strange  I  should  not  have  heard 
it;  but  perhaps  he  had  no  time — had  to  flee  to  the  country." 

She  was  solacing  her  heart  with  tliis  thought,  when  she  heard  a 
voice  say  '"  Good-by,  good-by."  Instantly  she  pressed  nearer  to 
the  passing  column.  It  was  the  old  uncle  addressing  his  niece, 
who  had  thrown  up  her  veil  so  as  to  be  recognized,  and  who  by 
a  signal  had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  old  man. 

Scarcely  had  the  young  girl  recovered  from  the  shock  this  sud- 
den surprise  had  given  her,  when  she  heard  her  own  name  pro- 
nounced in  tones  all  too  familiar.  Harry  had  seen  lier,  knew  her, 
and  had  pronounced  her  name  as  he  passed  rapidly  by. 

''Harry  !"  was  the  only  response  of  the  excited  girL,  as  she  saw 
the  young  man  in  advance  of  where  she  stood. 

''Come,  go  with  me  to  the  boat,"  she  said  to  the  female  beside 
her,  "  we  shall  see  our  friends  there — it  will  be  the  last  time;"  and 
she  seized  the  arm  of  the  woman  convulsively,  who,  without  time 


352  KAEDS  JlND  eomaxce 

to  reflect,  yielded  without  remonstrance,  and  the  two  set  out  with 
the  running  mass  to  follow  the  prisoners. 

"^NTobody  will  notice  us,"  said  Evangeline,  feeling  that  perhaps 
the  woman  might  have  some  reluctance  to  accompanying  her  in 
this  strange  and  summary  manner.  '*  The  whole  city  is  in  an  up- 
roar to-day  :  they  will  think  we  are  endeavoring  to  flee." 

The  female  allowed  herself  to  be  led  along.  "  Come  quickly, 
we  must  pass  them  and  reach  the  boat  first.  See!  it  wants  only 
fifteen  minutes  of  the  time.     "VTe  will  not  get  to  see." 

Pressing  on  through  the  moving  tide  of  human  beings  that 
crowded  every  street,  Evangeline  and  her  friend  succeeded  in  gain- 
ing the  wharf  in  advance  of  the  prisoners.  Selecting  a  position  by 
which  the  men  must  pass  as  they  filed  on  board  the  boat,  which 
already  awaited  them,  they  paused  until  the  column,  the  front  of 
which  was  already  in  view,  should  reach  them.  A  moment,  and 
the  advance  had  passed.  Riveted  to  the  spot,  Evangeline  gazed 
on  each  passing  form,  until  her  eyes  rested  on  Harry.  Just  as  he 
reached  her,  the  column  was  ordered  to  halt. 

"Harry,"  she  said,  as  she  rushed  to  his  side,  "  why  didn't  you 
come  ?" 

"  The  guard,  Evangeline — the  guard  deceived  me." 

"And  can't  you  get  away,  dear  Harry?"  she  whispered  low,  as 
she  saw  the  soldiers  nearing  the  spot  where  she  was. 

"  Impossible — impossible!  I  will  try  at  Cincinnati.  If  I  don't 
succeed  there,  I  will  surely  get  away  from  Camp  Chase." 

"  Oh,  Harry—" 

"Don't  be  distressed,  Evangeline,"  broke  in  the  prisoner,  as  he 
saw  the  look  of  hopeless  despair  that  gathered  on  the  sad  face  of 
Evangeline.  "  A  few  weeks  more,  perhaps  a  few  days,  and  I  shall 
be  in  Kentucky  again.  Tell  my  father,  Evangehne,  what  I  say, 
but  breathe  it  to  none  other." 

The  young  girl  regarded  her  lover  with  amazement, — so  calm, 
so  cheerful,  so  hopeful,  while  she  Saw  nothing  but  distress  and  suf- 
fering: she  could  not  realize  that  the  scene  before  her  was  reality. 

"  Bragg  will  be  here  in  a  day  or  two,  Evangeline,  then  you  will 
have  freedom,  and  we  shall  meet  again.  Rest  assured  I  shall  get 
out,  and  tlie  Confederates  will  hold  the  State." 

"  God  grant  it,  Harry !  but,  oh,  my  heart  fears.  Harry,  you 
don't  know  what  I  have  suffered  since  you  have  been  in  that 
prison." 

"I  know,  Evangeline.  It  is  hard  to  bear,  but  these  are  times 
of  trial,  and  we  must  not  shrink  from  suffering.     God  shield  you 


OF   MORGAN   AND    HIS   MKN.  35i 

from  all  harm.     Be  brave,  never  yield,  Evangeline.     We  will  meet 
again." 

The  order  was  given  to  advance.  Harry  grasped  the  hand  of 
the  young  girl,  looked  upon  her  witii  an  expression  so  full  of  love, 
that,  as  sad  as  it  was  to  Evangeline's  heart,  it  thrilled  it  with  glad 
emotion.  And  with  a  "  God  bless  you,  my  dear  girl,  I'll  write  you 
soon,"  he  followed  on.  Once  he  turned  to  look  back  ;  Evangeline's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  and  there  she  remained  gazing,  gazing, 
until  he  mounted  the  steps  to  the  boat,  where,  apart  from  the 
rest,  he  stood  to  bid  her  a  last  adieu.  She  returned  his  salutation  ; 
then  tearing  herself  away,  she  leaned  on  the  arm  of  her  yet  un- 
known friend,  and  ascended  the  slope  that  led  from  the  river  to 
Main-street,  from  whence  she  found  her  way  with  slow  and  pen- 
sive step  to  her  now  desolate  home.  In  her  own  room,  apart 
from  all  society,  she  remained  engaged  with  her  own  plans  and 
thoughts  throughout  the  remainder  of  that  eventful  day. 


liAlDS    AND   ROMANCE 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

LEXINGTON LOUISVILLE. 

"When,  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  September,  tlie  Confed- 
erate army,  under  General  Kirby  Smith,  consisting  of  the  divis- 
ions of  Generals  Claiborne  and  Heath,  and  two  brigades,.one  from 
Texas,  the  other  from  Arkansas,  commanded  by  General  Cliurch- 
ill,  marched  into  Lexington  and  through  its  streets,  it  was  every- 
where received  with  the  loudest  attestations  of  sympathy  and 
welcome.  The  streets  were  thronged  with  tliousands  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  waving  red  and  blue  ribbons,  small  Hags, 
handkerchiefs,  and  who  with  smiles  and  tears  hailed  with  joyous 
acclaim  the  presence  of  the  men  who  had  come  to  deliver  tliem 
from  the  presence  of  the  insolent  oppressor.  Windows  and  galler- 
ies— indeed,  all  available  points — were  tilled  with  delighted  spec- 
tators, who  appeared  to  rival  each  other  in  their  manifestations  of 
gratitude  and  happiness. 

It  was  a  glad  scene — one  well  calculated  to  cheer  the  hearts  of 
these  toil-worn  soldiers.  Everywhere  substantial  evidences,  in 
the  way  of  baskets  of  provisions,  and  buckets  of  cool  refreshing 
water,  met  the  hungry,  thirsty  men,  hundreds  of  whom  were,  in 
addition  to  this,  presented  with  shoes,  blankets,  hats,  overcoats, 
and  tobacco.  Their  passage  through  the  town  was  a  grand  ova- 
tion. Never  did  Roman  em[)eror,  on  returning  from  the  scene 
of  victorious  conflict,  laden  with  the  spoils  of  triumph,  meet  with 
more  enthusiastic  welcome  tljan  did  those  weary,  battle-stained 
men,  who  had  endured  every  hardsliip,  overcome  every  obstacle, 
surmounted  every  difficulty,  that  Kentucky  might  be  free.  All 
liianks  to  them.  Let  their  names  be  perpetuated  in  all  future 
liist(jry  as  heroes  who  dared,  and  suffered,  and  bled  for  the  right. 

But  if  the  reception  of  the  infantry  was  enthusiastic,  what  shall 
we  say  of  that  of  Colonel  Morgan  and  his  men,  who  now,  for  the 
tirst  time  in  ten  long  months  of  toil  and  danger,  returned  to  the 
homes  of  their  childhood,  the  bosom  of  their  loved  families?  The 
sc6ne  was  one  wliich  utterly  deties  description.  The  bells  through- 
out the  city  pealed  out  joyoualy — men,  women,  and  young  boys 


OF   MOEGAK   AXD   HIS   MEN.  355 

and  girls,  with  smiles,  tears,  shouts,  and  cheers  rushed  into  the 
streets,  waving  white  handkerchiefs  and  small  Southern  flags,  and 
making  the  very  air  resonant  with  the  strains  of  wildest  joy. 
Wives  pressed  hushauds  to  their  bosoms;  parents  clasped  sons  in 
aftectionate  embrace.  General  gladness  reigned  throughout  the 
vast  multitude,  and  for  hours  the  most  intense  excitement  every- 
where  prevailed.  No  class  was  exempt.  Even  the  negroes  were 
eager  participants  in  the  universal  enjoyment. 

Colonel  Morgan's  forces  were  allowed  but  a  short  time  to  recu- 
perate. But  during  this  brief  interval,  the  boys,  forgetting  all 
they  had  endured,  gave  themselves  up  unrestrainedly  to  the  joys 
of  home  and  society.  They  visited  their  sweethearts,  went  riding 
with  old  friends,  dashed  out,  into  the  country,  and  were  toasted, 
feted,  welcomed,  everywhere. 

A  detachment  of  Colonel  Morgan's  forces  was  then  sent  forward 
northward  as  far  as  the  five-mile  house,  in  front  of  Covington, 
where  for  three  days  they  menaced  the  enemy,  driving  up  iu  front 
of  his  hastily  constructed  rifle-pits.  Falling  back  from  this  point, 
they  returned  to  Georgetown,  and  from  there  passed  iiastily  on, 
with  the  view  of  intercepting  the  Federal  General  Morgan,  iu  his 
retreat  from  Cumberland  Gap. 

The  Friday  following  General  Bragg  s  occupation  of  Bardstown 
and  the  issuance  of  the  Federal  General  Xelson's  order  for  the 
women  and  cliildren  to  leave  Louisville,  General  Buell  readied  tlie 
city  with  his  worn  and  jaded  army,  and  assumed  command  of  the 
place.  This  restored  confidence  to  a  great  extent,  as  he  was  re- 
garded by  both  parties  as  a  wise  and  prudent  man,  who  would  not 
unnecessarily  bring  fear  and  suflTeriug  on  the  inhabitants. 

A  week  from  the  date  of  General  Nelson's  order,  he  lay  a 
corpse  at  the  Gait  House,  having  been  shot  by  JefF.  C.  Davies',  of 
Indiana,  in  an  altercation  provoked  by  himself.  Troops  were 
hourly  pouring  into  the  city  from  across  the  river,  to  swell  the 
already  heavy  army  of  Buell,  The  fortifications  were  also  being 
strengthened  in  every  possible  way,  and  the  panic  which  for  days 
had  reigned  universally  was  but  little  abated.  During  all  these 
days  of  internal  suspense.  General  Bragg  was  quietly  resting  at 
Bardstown,  seemingly  awaiting  the  development  of  General  Buell's 
plans.  His  advance  pickets  had  been  thrown  forward  to  within  a 
few  miles  of  Louisville,  and  thus  the  city  was  constantly  menaced. 
Evangeline  Lenoir  was  aroused  early  on  the  Saturday  morning 
following  her  farewell  to  Ilarry  Roberts,  by  a  messenger  bearing 
the  following  note: 


856  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

LonsTiLLE,  Kt.,  Sept.  28,  1862. 

My  Dear  Etangelixe  : — I  have  escaped  from  my  captors,  and 
am  now  safe  at  my  father's  house.  Were  it  not  for  the  fear  ot 
betrayal,  I  wonlc^call  to  see  you.  But  my  recent  sad  experience 
makes  me  cautious.  I  shall  leave  before  morning,  to  endeavor  to 
make  my  way  through  to  Lexington,  to  rejoin  Colonel  Morgan. 
Dare  I  ask  you — Will  you  follow  me  ?  Will  you  forsake  home 
and  friends,  Evangeline,  for  one  who  loves  you  more  than  life 
itself,  and  who  will  do  all  a  devoted  heart  can  do  to  secure  your 
happiness?  Once  in  the  land  of  Freedom,  we  could  be  united, 
happy.  As  it  is,  we  may  never  meet  again.  Say,  Evangeline, 
will  you  meet  me  at  Lexington  ?  I  can  write  no  more. 
Ever,  my  dear  Evaageliue,  yours, 

Haeey. 

Evangeline  stood  as  one  electrified,  while  she  read  and  re-read 
the  note  she  held  in  her  hand.  As  the  breaking  of  the  morning 
light  to  the  weary  pilgrim,  who  amid  storm  and  darkness  has 
■wandered  on  through  the  tangled  maze  of  the  trackless  wild,  was 
this  joyous  intelligence  to  the  heart  of  Evangeline.  Since  the 
morning  she  had  bidden  Harry  adieu,  as  the  boat  left  the  wharf, 
she  had  sorrowed  hopelessly.  All  joy  had  fled  her  darkened  soul 
— all  hope  died  out  in  her  stricken  bosom.  Confining  herself  to 
her  room,  avoiding  all  company,  she  brooded  over  her  deep  grief 
and  bitter  disappointment  until  her  brain  was  frenzied,  and  life 
became  a  weary  burden.  The  wild  excitement  which  prevailed 
throughout  the  city  failed  to  win  her  attention  for  a  moment ;  and 
when  at  table  Mr.  Terrant  would  rally  her  over  her  silent  and 
despondent  appearance,  she  would  only  smile  faintly,  and  reply 
that  nothing  distressed  her  but  the  dreadful  condition  of  the  coun- 
try. Her  uncle,  unsuspecting  man  as  he  was,  ascribed  her  gloom 
to  her  disappointment  at  her  delayed  marriage  with  young  Lasley. 

This  gentleman,  fearful  of  being  pressed  into  the  ranks  of  the 
"  refugee  defenders"  of  the  city,  had  wisely  availed  himself  of  the 
furore  of  Monday  to  return  to  his  home  at  Bardstown.  He  re- 
mained in  Louisville  long  enough  to  see  his  hated  rival  conveyed 
to  the  boat  which  was  to  bear  him  to  Ohio.  Then,  as  if  satisfied 
that  he  was  avenged,  he  hired  a  buggy  and  set  off  at  full  speed  for 
a  place  of  security. 

''I  will  go,"  said  Evangeline,  determinedly,  to  herself,  as  she 
read  again  Harry's  earnest  request.  A  thousand  obstacles  rose  up 
to  prevent  the  execution  of  her  design,  but  she  heeded  them  not. 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  357 

Undaunted  she  looked  at  tliem,  and  wliere  she  could  not  devise  a 
plan  to  surmount  them,  she  left  the  difficulty  unsolved,  and 
trusted  herself  to  some  uuforeseen  interposition  in  her  behalf. 

After  breakfast,  she  ordered  the  carriage,  and  drove  out  to  Mr. 
K.'s,  to  see  Mary  Lawrence.  As  soon  as  she  found  an  opportunity 
to  speak  with  her  alone,  she  showed  her  Harry's  note,  told  her  of 
her  decision,  and  requested  her  advice. 

"We  will  go  together,  Evangie,"  said  Mary. 

*'And  when  shall  this  be?"  asked  Evangeline,  earnestly. 

"Just  as  soon  as  it  is  ascertained  that  the  Confederates  are 
going  to  leave  the  State.  There  is  still  a  hope  that  they  may 
come  to  Louisville,  and  the  strong  possibility  is  they  will  hold 
Kentucky.  The  difficulties  of  getting  through  are  so  great,  we 
will  not  risk  the  trip  until  it  becomes  necessary." 

"But,  oh,  Mary,  what  if  the  army  should  go  out,  and  we  be 
lett  behind  ?" 

"  That  can  scarcely  occur,  Evangie.  We  shall,  most  undoubt- 
edly, have  some  warning— sufficient  to  enable  us  to  prepare  and 
get  through." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  any  friend,  Mary,  of  your  intention  to  go 
to  Lexington?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"And  do  they  approve  this  plan  you  have  just  mentioned  ?" 

"  Yes ;  it  is  the  advice  of  all  my  friends.  This  is  why  I  have 
adopted  it." 

"And  you  will  let  me  know,  Mary,  when  you  determine  to  go  ? 
I  must  make  some  preparations,  and  I  will  attend  to  it  immediate- 
ly, so  as  to  be  ready  at  a  moment's  warning.  But  how  shall  we 
go,  Mary  ?" 

"In  a  carriage.  There  is  left  to  us  no  other  alternative.  All 
the  railroads  are  broken  up,  and  no  stages  are  running  now  on  any 
of  the  old  routes.  We  can  hire  a  carriage  for  the  trip,  and  go  by 
way  of  Bardstown.  I  have  an  aunt  there,  and  a  cousin  who  will 
go  through  with  us  and  protect  us." 

"  But  who  will  take  care  of  us  to  that  place,  Mary  ?" 

''Lu's  brother  can  go  with  us.  I  know  the  way  well,  have 
travelled  it  often,  and  would  not  feel  the  least  afraid." 

Evangeline,  having  arranged  the  whole  plan  witli  her  friend, 
returned  to  the  city  to  make  such  preparation  as  she  thought 
necessary  for  the  trip  before  her. 

On  reaching  her  room,  she  found  a  letter  on  her  table  from  her 
aunt.     It  was  directed  to  Mr.  Terrant,  and  in  a  handwriting  she 


35S  RAIDS    AXD   KOMANCE 

(lid  not  recognize.  Seizing  it.  slie  rend  it  liastily  tlirongli.  It 
was  an  urgent  request  for  Mr.  Terrant  and  lierself  to  set  out  im- 
mediately for  Indianapolis  to  see  her  aunt,  wlio  was  confined  to 
her  bed,  seriously  disabled  by  a  fall  she  had  received  in  descend- 
ing the  steps  of  a  hall  wliere  she  had  been  in  attendance  to  hear  a 
war  speech.  The  appeal  was  most  forcible,  the  language  setting 
forth  the  extent  of  the  sad  accident,  and  Mrs.  Terrant's  most 
•  earnest  desire  to  see  her  husband  and  niece.  Looking  again  at  the 
table,  Evangeline  discerned  a  note  which  had  fallen  on  the  carpet. 
It  was  addressed  to  her  by  her  uncle,  telling  her  that  he  would 
make  every  preparation  to  leave  on  the  evening  train  for  Indian- 
apolis, and  she  must  be  ready  to  accompany  him. 

"I  cannot  go,"  soliloquized  Evangeline,  as  she  threw  herself 
into  the  large  arm-chair  that  stood  before  the  bright  coal-fire  that 
was  blazing  in  the  grate.  "I  cannot  go,  and  it  is  no  use  to  talk 
about  it.  The  Confederates  may  leave  the  State  while  I  am 
away,  and  then  I  should  never  get  South,  and  Harry  would  think 
I  had  deceived  him,  and  Lasley  will  annoy  me  to  death  with  his 
importuaities ;  not  that  he  loves  me — no,  no — the  creature  is 
incapable  of  love — but  he  is  determined  to  marry  me,  merely  be- 
cause he  cannot  bear  to  be  disappointed  in  his  desires.  Poor, 
dear  aunt,  I  do  wish  I  could  see  her, — she  has  always  been  so 
kind  to  me;  and  now  she  is  away  from  home,  and  suffering  so, 
too.  I  ought  to  go.  It  will  be  so  ungrateful  in  me  to  refuse, 
when  she  is  so  anxious  to  see  me.  She  knows  I  can  nurse  her 
better  than  any  one  else.  And  what  reason  can  I  give  for  stay- 
ing at  home  ?  I  have  none.  Oh,  I  will  have  to  go  !"  she  added, 
after  a  pause  ;  "  and  then  if  the  Southerners  should  go  out  before 
I  can  get  Ifick,  what  shall  I  do — what  shall  I  do !  I  cpji't  stay 
long.  But  how  am  I  to  get  back?  It  will  not  do  to  reave  her 
until  she  is  well — this  would  be  so  unkind.  Oh,  me,  what  shall  I 
do !  I  cannot  go.  But  what  reason  can  I  offer  uncle  for  re- 
fusing? I  cannot  tell  him  I  am  sick,  though  mercy  knows  I  have 
suffered  enough  in  the  last  week  to  kill  me.  I  dare  not  say  I  am 
afraid  to  go,  for  that  is  a  place  of  safety — this  of  danger.  And  to 
urge  any  dislike  to  the  Yankees,  when  my  poor  aunt  needs  me ! 
Oh,  that  I  was  ready  to  set  out  for  Lexington  this  very  hour !  I 
would  run  all  risks,  take  all  consequences,  if  I  could  but  get 
through.  The  world  might  say  what  it  could,  it  could  not  harm 
me  then." 

She  took  up  the  letter  that  had  been  lying  on  her  lap  during 
her  soliloquy,  and  read  it  again.     "  I  shall  have  to  go  to  poor, 


OF    M()HOA.N    AND    HIS    MEN.  359 

«lear  annt.  I  would  never  forgive  inysolf  if  slie  slioulil  die  and  I 
not  see  lier.  I  will  stay  a  few  days,  and  then  coine  back.  But 
bow  can  I  gc-t  away?  Aunt  will  ibink  so  strangely  of  my  wish- 
ing to  return  bef(.ro  sbe  is  well.  I mmt  go,  and  I  must  return  in 
a  few  days,"  she  said,  energetically,  as  sbe  arose  and  walked  to 
tbe  window. 

The  carriage  stood  wailing  to  take  ber  down  tbe  street.  Paus- 
ing a  moment  to  consider,  sbe  took  ber  escritoir,  wrote  a  note  to 
Mary  Lawrence,  explanatory  of  circumstances,  and  urging  upon 
ber  to  write  to  lier  at  Indianajmlis  eacb  day,  tbat  sbe  migbt  be 
kept  informed  of  wbat  was  passing,  and  of' tbe  unfolding  of  ber 
plans.  Tben  ringing  tbe  bell,  sbe  ordered  Emily  to  put  ber 
ol.)tbes  in  ber  trunk,  and  have  every  thing  ready  for  her  depart- 
ure. 

**  My  small  trunk,  Emily.  I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  days.  Put 
up  such  dresses  as  are  suitable  for  a  sick-room.  I  shall  have  no 
use  for  evening  and  dinner  dresses,  only  wrappers  and  one  or  two 
street  suits.     Be  careful,  Emily,  heed  what  I  say  to  you." 

With  these  directions,  Evangeline  descended  the  stairway,  and 
taking  the  carriage  drove  to  one  of  the  most  extensive  stores  on 
Fourth-street.  Alighting,  she  made  such  purchases  as  sbe  de- 
sired, and  ordering  the  packages  done  up  directly,  took  them  with 
lier  to  ber  mantua-maker,  where  she  left  directions  for  the  making 
of  the  dresses,  requesting  that  they  should  be  finished  by  tbe 
middle  of  the  following  week  and  sent  home.  From  the  mantua- 
maker's  she  drove  to  Merriman's  cloak-store,  and  quickly  selected 
a  very  genteel  drab  cloth  travelling-cloak.  Sbe  then  proceeded  to 
her  milliner's,  ordered  a  travelling-bonnet,  and  calling  at  Mrs. 
Ritchy's  foncy-store,  purchased  gloves,  collars,  bandke|chiefs,  etc., 
etc.  II:Wng  bought  all  she  deemed  necessary,  sbe  returned  home, 
and  occu[)ied  the  time  until  dinner  in  preparing  her  travelling 
trunk,  so  that  she  might  be  ready  on  her  return  to  set  out  for  tbe 
Confederate  lines  at  an  hour's  warning.  As  she  placed  in  the  last 
articles,  including  ber  morning  purchases,  she  told  Emily  to  be 
sure  to  fold  the  dresses  which  would  be  sent  home  Wednesday 
evening  of  tbe  following  week,  and  put  them  in  tbe  trunk. 
"  Going  to  travel  again,  Miss  'Vangie  ?" 

"Perhaps  so,  Emily,"  she  replied,  carelessly,  ''It  may  be  I 
shall  have  to  send  for  my  trunk.  I  wish  to  have  all  things 
ready." 

_  *'Yes,  Miss  'Vangie,  you  are  very  right.     These  troublesome 
times  it's  well  to  be  ready  for  any  thing  that  turns  up." 


360  EAroS    AND   ROMANCE 

The  evening  found  her  with  her  uncle,  on  their  way  to  Indian- 
apoHs.  On  reaching  tliat  city,  they  found  Mrs.  Terrant  far  bet- 
ter than  was  expected.  The  injury,  which  at  the  time  of  the  fall 
had  appeared  quite  serious,  upon  further  examination  had  been 
found  to  be  comparatively  slight,  and  the  physician  assured  Mr. 
Terrant  that  his  wife  would  be  in  a  condition  to  return  home  in 
eight  or  ten  days. 

On  the  fifth  evening  after  Evangeline's  arrival  in  Indianapolis, 
she  received  a  hasty  note  from  Mary  Lawrence,  informing  her  that 
she  had  decided  to  leave  for  Bardstown  the  following  week,  and 
urged  upon  Evangeline  to  return  immediately. 

''What  shall  I  do!"  exclaimed  Evangeline  to  herself,  as  the 
hand  that  held  the  letter  fell  heavily  on  her  lap.  "  Aunt  cannot 
travel  yet ;  uncle  is  gone,  there  is  no  one  to  accompany  me.  What 
shall  I  plead  as  an  excuse  for  returning  so  soon  ?  and  how  can  I 
persuade  aunt  to  let  me  go  alone?  I  must  go — this  I  am  deter- 
mined on,  and  must  leave  on  the  next  train.  If  I  delay,  Mary  may 
leave  without  me,  and  then  all  hope  of  getting  South  is  gone — 
forever  gone."  Kising  from  her  chair,  she  passed  into  her  aunt's 
room  and  stood  beside  the  large  cushioned  chair  on  which  that  lady 
was  sitting.     She  bore  the  letter  in  her  hand. 

"  What  news  from  Louisville,  'Vangie  ?"  asked  her  aunt,  looking 
up  and  seeing  the  letter. 

"  Oh,  nothing  unusual  in  a  military  point,  aunty.  This  note  is 
from  Mary  Lawrence,  who  urges  me  to  return  immediately." 
Evangeline  hushed  down  her  feelings,  resolving  to  be  calm.  She 
had  a  part  to  play ;  she  must  do  it  well,  or  all  would  be  lost. 

"  And  what  is  the  matter,  Evangie,  that  Mary  should  request 
you  to  return  at  a  time  like  this?" 

'*  Some  affair  of  her  own,  aunty.  You  know  I  must  iWt  betray 
confidence,"  and  the  gay  girl  laughed  and  blushed  deeply. 

"  Ah,  you  need  not  try  to  deceive  me,  child.  Mary  Lawrence  is 
going  to  be  married  to  Fred.  Morton.  Well,  well,  that  is  all  right. 
If  she  ever  intends  to  marry  him  she  ought  to  do  it  now.  Then, 
if  he  should  be  wounded,  she  can  wait  on  him  ;  or  if  killed,  she  will 
have  a  right  to  mourn  for  him.  But  you  cannot  go,  Evangie,  for 
several  days.  You  know  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  accompany  you 
now,  and  you  cannot  go  alone.     When  is  the  wedding  to  be?" 

'  Evangeline  hesitated  a  moment.  Should  she  continue  to  deceive 
her  aunt,  or,  undeceiving  her,  depend  upon  her  powers  of  persua- 
sion to  influence  her  to  let  her  undertake  the  trip  alone?  Intui- 
tively, for  she  had  not  time  to  reason,  she  concluded  to  let  her 


OF   MORGAN   AND   niS    MEN.  ^Ql 

aunt  eDJoy  her  own  opinion,  and  looking  at  tie  letter  again  she 
answered :  &      ,    ^o 

^    "  Siie  says  not  a  word  about  the  day  ;  only  urges  me  to  come 
immediately,  not  to  delay  a  moment." 

"But  Low  are  you  to  go,  Evangeline?  It  is  impossible.  She 
had  better  be  married  without  you  than  for  you  to  risk  yourself 
alone,  now  that  the  country  is  so  filled  with  soldiers  travellin-r  to 
and  fro.  Write  to  her  and  tell  her  you  cannot  come  for  a  few  davs 
As  soon  as  I  get  well  enough,  I  will  go  with  you.  Perhaps  the 
case  ,s  not  so  urgent  as  she  represents  it ;  and,  moreover,  if  she  is 
to  be  married  in  a  day  or  two  she  can  do  without  you ;  it  will  be 
a  small  wedding,  of  course— very  few  present." 

'^Oh,  aunty,"  said  Evangehne  most  persuasively,  "I  do  wish 
you  could  go  with  me;  don't  you  feel  well  enough  ?  You  know 
you  can  be  still  when  you  get  on  the  cars ;  I  will  attend  to  you 
-  and  the  baggage  ;  you  shall  have  no  occasion  to  exert  yourself  at 
all  I  am  so  anxious  to  go.  You  know  Mary  is  one  of  my  dear- 
e^t  friends  and  she  has  no  sister,  and  no  mother,  aunty.     She  is  so 

tTif  rdiS'nit!" '' ' ""' '"  '^ '"  '^"  ^  ^'^  "^"^^  ^^-^  ^-^-« 

-Let  me  see  the  letter,  child.  Does  she  give  no  reason  why 
she  wishes  you  to  come  right  away?" 

"Oh,  it  is  marked  secret,  aunty,"' replied  Evangeline,  her  color 
deepening.  "Mary  wishes  me  to  show  the  letter  to  no  one  but 
says  come  without  delay.  Can't  you  go,  aunty  ?  Here  is  Dc;ctor 
Floss  coming  up  the  avenue-if  he  says  you  may  go  with  me,  won't 
you  go  this  very  morning  ?"  j  b  ,  wou  l 

"Oh,  my  child,  I  cannot;  even  were  I  well  enough,  and  I  know 
I  am  not,  I  could  not  get  ready  this  evenin-  "         ^  ' 

Dr.  Floss  entered  the  room.    Evangeline  made  known  her  desire 

V  ith  me  ?  she  is  well  enough  for  the  trip,  isn't  she  ?"     The  old  man 

ditt;  t^ttli^ ""  ^'^^ ''''"'' '-''  -''  >--  --  ^^  -  -- 

'^  Well,  aunty,  I  will  go  this  evening,  and  send  uncle  after  you  " 
she  said  most  determinedly,  thougli  her  heart  beat  doubtingly  Is  ' 

uiy  duty  to  risk  every  thing  to  gratify  Mary." 

.o7^''  f "  r'  ?''''^'  doctor-will  it  be  prudent  for  my  niece  to 
go  to  Kentucky  alone  in  these  troublous  times  2" 

fe,n^'   f   T'°'   ^^'"^   ^''^   ^^^°  '^^''"^  ^^  Connecticut,  where 
females  travel  unprotected,  lookevl  at  the  matter  in  a  business-like 

16 


862  KAIDS   AND   KOMANCE 

view  entirely,  not  for  a  moment  considering  it  in  the  light  of  pro- 
priety. 

"  I  think  she  might  go  safely,  madam,  if  she  is  willing  to  under- 
take the  trip." 

"Thank  you,  doctor,  thank  you,"  exclaimed  Evangeline.  "  Dr. 
Floss  knows  there  is  no  danger,  aunty  ;  and  you  know  I  am  not 
one  bit  afraid.  How  long  before  the  cars  leave  for  Louisville,  doc- 
tor? will  I  have  time  to  get  ready?" 

"  Just  two  hours  before  the  western  train  will  be  in,"  said  the  old 
man,  taking  out  his  double-cased  silver  watch,  which  had  measured 
the  time  for  him  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  practice. 

"  Oh,  I  could  get  ready  for  a  trip  to  Europe  in  two  hours. 
Aunty,  may  I  go  ?  I  know  you  will  not  deny  me.  Doctor,  won't 
you  take  me  to  the  cars  and  see  my  baggage  safely  on  them  ?  I 
shall  have  nothing  to  do  but  be  quiet  until  I  reach  home." 

The  doctor  readily  assented  to  acting  as  her  escort.  Her  aunt 
protested  against  the  undertaking,  but  Evangeline  had  too  much  at 
stake  to  submit  to  any  opposition.  Most  wonderfully  preserving 
her  equanimity,  she  made  all  necessary  preparations,  and  when  Dr. 
Floss  drove  up  at  the  appointed  hour,  she  was  ready,  bonneted, 
awaiting  him. 

Bidding  her  aunt  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  enjoining  her 
to  come  home  as  soon  as  possible,  she  seated  herself  beside 
the  doctor,  who  drove  her  to  the  depot  and  placed  her  on  the 
cars,  attending  to  every  minutiae  that  would  enhance  her  com- 
fort. ^ 

In  the  excitement  of  achieving  her  purpose,  Evangeline  had  had 
no  time  for  reflection  or  reason.  She  could  entertain  but  the  one 
thought,  that  of  reaching  Louisville  in  time  to  set  out  with  Mary 
Lawrence  for  Lexington.  "When  alone,  as  she  was,  left  to  her 
own  reflections,  the  momentousness  of  the  step  she  was  taking 
rushed  in  upon  her  mind  with  overwhelming  power,  and  she 
shrunk  as  the  picture  in  all  its  grand  and  fearful  proportions  rose 
up  before  her.  Tremblingly  she  contemplated  it,  and  as  she  ex- 
amined it  in  all  its  shades  and  colorings,  she  stood  back  aghast  at 
the  magnitude  of  its  gigantic  dimensions.  Should  she  succeed  ? 
this  was  the  momentous  question.  Once  the  wife  of  Harry  Rob- 
erts, she  defied  the  sneers  and  jests  of  the  unappreciative  public. 
She  could  look  down  from  the  heights  of  her  security  and  laugh  at 
those  who  would  endeavor  to  assail  her.  But,  then,  the  fearful 
opposite!  Should  she  fail  in  her  attempt,  and  her  plans  and  futile 
endeavors  be  exposed  to  the  cold,  heartless  world !     How  could 


OF  JdORQAN  AND   HIS   MEN.  ^63 

could  ofver  brooU  t.,f  de  '  U^^i!':^'^'^'"^'"  -'""' 
tion,  which  must  ever  haunt  W  lifr  P  '  ^  i'"5  """"'"^'"'- 
J...  an,  .deed.  eote..  .' ^'f  patlT.:" If  S" ll 


364  RAIDS  AND  KOMANOE 


CHAPTER  LY. 

IS    THERE    NO    LIGHT  ? 

The  morning  after  Evangeline  reached  Louisville,  she  drove  out 
to  Mr.  R.'s,  to  ascertain  when  Mary  Lawrence  would  leave  for  Lex- 
ington. She  found  her  young  friend  in  the  midst  of  preparation, 
but  foiled  in  the  plan  which  she  had  hoped  to  consummate  on  tho 
following  day.  She  was  now  uncertain  when  she  should  leave. 
This  gave  EvangeHne  more  time  to  perfect  her  arrangements,  and 
although  it  but  prolonged  the  suspense  which  she  felt  almost  un- 
endurable, yet,  for  some  reasons,  she  was  glad  of  the  delay.  Ap- 
plying herself  with  the  utmost  assiduity  to  the  task  before  her, 
unadvised  and  unassisted,  she  succeeded,  in  a  few  days,  in  com- 
pleting all  arrangements  deemed  by  her  necessary  for  the  proposed 
trip.  Her  trunk  was  conveyed  to  Mr.  Pw.'s,  to  await  the  day  of 
departure.  Her  uncle,  all  unsuspecting,  furnished  her  with  what 
funds  she  desired,  and  with  miser's  care  she  hoarded  them,  that 
she  might  be  ready  to  meet  future  exigencies.  Meanwhile  she  re- 
ceived no  intelligence  from  young  Lasley.  She  had  expected  to 
be  annoyed  by  the  reception  of  letters,  or  perhaps  the  intrusion 
of  his  presence.  Why  he  was  thus  silent  she  was  at  a  loss  to  di- 
vine, but,  amid  her  wonder,  she  was  grateful  to  be  relieved  of  this 
feature  of  her  perplexity.  Ah,  could  she  have  known  what  that 
silence  portended — could  she  have  read  the  secret  workings  of 
that  heart,  bent  on  its  ever  fiendish  purposes — have  understood 
its  act  of  cruel  revenge — how  would  her  soul  have  sunk  within 
her!  how  would  she  have  fainted  beneath  the  torturing  burden  ! 
Anguish,  deep,  dark,  unutterable,  would  have  seized  the  very  life- 
springs  of  her  being,  and  she  would  have  sought  death  rather  than 
Ufe !  Robbed  of  joy — her  every  hope  perished — the  light  of  the 
future  changed  to  rayless  darkness — what  would  there  have  been 
upon  which  the  weary  soul  could  have  leaned  for  support  ?  what 
to  which  the  poor  broken  heart  could  have  looked  for  consola- 
tion? Well  it  was  for  her,  surrounded  as  she  was  by  uncertainty, 
her  bosom  each  moment  the  prey  of  doubt  and  anxiety,  that  the 
ead  intelligence  could  not  reach  her.     Well,  that  while  the  cloud 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  365 

gathered  over  her  pathway,  she  saw  not  its  black  folds — heard 
not  its  fearful  thunders! 

Incarcerated  in  the  prison  at  Bardsto^n.  shutout  froin  the  light 
of  day,  surrounded  by  a  Federal  guard,  with  the  penalty  of  death 
overshadowing  his  soul,  lay  Harry  Roberts,  hopeless,  sad,  despair- 
ing. It  was  the  8th  of  October,  the  day  of  the  sanguinary  battle 
of  Perryville.  He  knew  not  of  the  conflict  that  was  then  raging, 
all  he  knew  was  the  wretchedness  of  his  condition — the  utter 
hopelessness  of  his  future.  And  for  the  first  time  amid  the  varied 
fortunes  that  had  beset  his  path  for  the  last  twelvemonth,  did  he 
despair.  He  thought  of  Evangeline,  of  his  request,  with  which  he 
felt  confident  she  would  endeavor  to  comply  ;  of  her  endeavors  to 
join  him,  her  hopes,  her  fears,  the  risks  she  would  run,  and  then 
of  her  overwhelming  grief  when  she  should  learn  his  dark  fate;  of 
the  bitterness  of  her  disappointment,  the  awkwardness  of  her  po- 
sition, when  she  should  find  herself  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land, 
away  from  home  and  friends,  alone,  unprotected,  exposed  to  the 
vicissitudes  of  war,  with  the  deep  mortification  of  failure  to  en- 
counter, the  reproach  of  Union  friends,  who  would  rejoice  at  her 
sorrow  and  taunt  her  with  her  want  of  success ;  of  the  entire 
helplessness  of  her  Southern  friends  to  extricate  her  from  the  tor- 
tures of  her  position  ; — all  this,  like  a  living  panorama,  passed  be- 
fore him  to  heighten  his  distress  and  increase  the  horrors  of  his 
imprisonment.  Death,  he  felt,  would  be  a  sweet  relief,  were  it 
not  that  the  happiness  of  another  was  involved  in  his  fate.  But 
in  his  darkest  moments  the  thought  of  Evangeline  would  nerve 
him,  and  he  resolved  that  whatever  fate  awaited  him  he  would 
live  for  her  sake. 

Gloating  with  delight  over  his  successful  revenge,  feasting  with 
a  fiendish  joy  at  the  contemplation  of  the  picture  of  the  distress 
he  had  wrought,  Lasley  delighted  to  recount  to  his  friends  in  vice 
and  dissipation  the  achievement  of  his  desires.  He  had  van- 
quished his  hated  rival,  humiliated  the  heart  of  her  whom  he  had 
professed  to  love,  foiling  all  their  plans,  darkening  their  every  joy 

Young  Roberts,  believing  it  more  practicable  to  join  the  Con- 
federate army  at  Bardstowu  than  at  Lexington,  had  attempted  to 
reach  that  point.  At  every  step  he  encountered  the  danger  of 
discovery.  His  progress  jvas  retarded  by  the  movement  of  the 
Federal  troops,  who  now  thronged  every  road  from  Louisville 
that  led  out  in  the  direction  of  Bardstown.  As  he  made  his  way 
cautiously  from  house  to  house  along  the  route,  he  heard  that 
General  ]3ragg  had  left  Bardstown,  and  was  falling  back  upon 


366  RAIDS  AND  ROMANCE 

Camp  Dick  Robipson.  The  rumors  of  his  movements  were  con- 
flicting and  unreliable,  and  Roberts  determined  to  prosecute  his 
first  intention.  Accordingly,  he  pursued  his  way  to  Bardstown. 
Reaching  that  place,  he  found  it  in  the  possession  of  Federal 
troops.  Being  known  to  no  one  save  young  Lasley,  of  whose  im- 
placable hatred  towards  him  he  knew  nothing,  and  being  dressed 
in  citizens'  clothing,  he  felt  no  fear  of  recognition,  and  ventured  to 
walk  the  streets  in  open  day,  to  see  if  he  could  ascertain  the  true 
position  of  General  Bragg,  and  his  safest  route  to  join  him.  He 
was  walking  leisurely  along  towards  the  hotel  when  he  met  Las- 
ley  walking  between  two  young  men.  The  two  immediately 
recognized  each  other.  Roberts,  smiling,  bowed ;  Lasley  bowed 
coldly.  The  two  passed  on.  After  proceeding  a  few  steps, 
Harry  turned  to  look  after  Lasley.  He  discovered  one  of  the 
men  he  had  seen  with  him  following  on  his  steps,  while  Lasley 
and  the  other  were  hastily  crossing  the  street  towards  a  group  of 
soldiers.  Fearing  that  some  evil  threatened  him,  Harry  made  his 
way  as  fast  as  he  could  to  the  hotel.  As  he  entered  the  door  of 
the  bar-room,  he  observed  the  individual  that  had  been  following 
him  pass  by  the  door  and  cross  the  street  to  the  right.  Harry 
stood  a  few  minutes  as  if  uncertain  how  to  proceed.  Then  walk- 
ing to  the  door,  he  looked  cautiously  out.  There  was  no  appear- 
ance of  danger — no  blue-coats  were  to  be  seen  in  the  street.  He 
breathed  more  freely.  Believing  that  his  fears  were  wholly  un- 
founded, he  returned  and  quietly  seated  himself  in  one  corner, 
where  he  would  be  free  from  observation.  There  were  three 
other  men  in  the  room  besides  the  bar-keeper,  who  were  all  re- 
joicing together  over  the  certain  retreat  of  the  rebels  from  the 
State.  Harry  listened  attentively  to  all  they  said,  endeavoring  to 
gather  from  their  loud  and  confused  statements  any  information 
that  would  serve  him  in  the  future.  The  bar-keeper  joined  the 
trio  in  their  tirade  of  invective  against  the  rebels,  and  the  four 
were  most  unsparing  in  their  wild  denunciation  of  every  thing 
Confederate.  Harry  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his  face,  and  the  words 
to  his  lips,  but  prudence  dictated  silence,  and  he  choked  down  his 
swelling  indignation  as  best  he  could,  and  assumed  an  air  of  indif- 
ference. Looking  out  of  the  window  into  the  cross-street,  he  was 
not  aware  of  the  approach  of  anyone,  until  he  heard  a  heavy  foot- 
fall at  the  door.  He  suddenly  turned  his  head  in  that  direction. 
His~gaze  encountered  three  Yankee  soldiers  approaching  him. 
One  stepped  forward,  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  said, 
in  a  harsh  tone,  "  You  are  my  prisoner — follow  me  !" 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  367 

"  How  dare  you  arrest  me  !"  said  Harry,  gazing  sternly  into  the 
face  of  his  captor,  determined  to  try  the  force  of  bravado.  It  was 
his  only  weapon.  "  How  dare  you  arrest  me,  I  ask,  a  peaceable 
citizen!     Show  rae  your  authority." 

The  soldier  was  a  man  of  nerve,  and  returning  Harry's  look 
with  one  equally  as  firm  and  unyielding,  he  very  quickly  and 
without  the  least  perturbation  responded  : 

"  You  need  not  try  to  deceive  me.  You  are  one  of  Morgan's 
men,  who  has  escaped  from  prison.  Come  with  me — no  words,  I 
have  no  time  for  discussion." 

Harry  saw  that  he  must  yield.  It  was  useless  to  resist.  Calmly 
he  arose  from  his  chair  and  walked  out  between  the  soldiers. 
As  he  passed  along  the  street  that  led  to  the  prison,  he  saw  on  the 
opposite  side  Lasley  and  his  two  companions,  who  were  laughing 
and  talking  together.  He  knew  that  he  was  the  subject  of  their 
remarks,  the  cause  of  their  merriment,  and  with  the  ferocity  of 
a  demon  he  scowled  upon  them^  It  was  all  he  could  do.  He 
dared  not  speak.     He  knew  the  heartlessness  of  his  enemies. 

The  prison-door  was  closed,  he  was  left  alone  with  his  thoughts. 
Silent  and  morose  he  sat,  dwelling  on  the  hopelessness  of  his  fate. 
The  hope  that  had  cheered  him  during  his  previous  imprisonment 
was  now  gone.  He  could  see  no  way  of  escape.  He  knew  now 
that  he  should  be  watched  with  the  greatest  vigilance,  from  the 
fact  that  he  had  once  evaded  them.  As  he  sat,  sad  and  despond- 
ing, his  head  bowed,  and  his  whole  attitude  expressive  of  the 
despair  that  filled  his  soul,  he  heard  one  of  the  guard  outside  say 
to  another : 

"  We  have  whipped  the  rebels  all  to  pieces  at  Perry  ville.  A 
man  has  just  reached  here,  and  says  they  have  been  fighting 
there  since  yesterday  morning,  and  are  now  fighting,  and  the 
rebels  are  being  slaughtered  like  sheep." 

Harry  started,  and  applying  his  ear  to  the  key-hole  listened 
attentively. 

The  two  continued  their  conversation  only  a  few  minutes.  He 
gathered  from  what  he  heard  that  the  Confederates  were  sadly 
whipped.  Were  this  the  case,  he  knew  they  would  have  to 
retreat  from  the  State  as  best  they  could.  It  would  be  impossible 
for  them  to  remain,  if  the  first  engagement  should  terminate  so 
disastrously. 

''  What  will  become  of  Evangeline  ?"  he  said  to  himself,  bitterly, 
as  he  resumed  his  seat  on  the  old  stool,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands,  while  the  great  ^rops  that  he  could   not  force  back 


368  EATDS   AXD   ROMANCE 

streamed  through  his  fingers.  "  If  I  knew  she  was  safe,  I  sliould 
ask  no  more.  Oh,  God,  t'ake  care  of  her,  and  shield  her  from  all 
danger!"  he  exclaimed,  vehemently,  as  he  sprang  from  his  seat 
and  paced  his  narrow  room. 

Haunted  by  his  fears  for  her  whom  he  loved,  oppressed  under 
a  sense  of  his  utter  inability  to  aid  her  in  any  way,  berefc  of  all 
hope  in  his  own  case,  he  was  as  one  bereft  of  reason.  Frenzied, 
he  walked  to  and  fro,  imtil,  exhausted  from  the  severe  exertion,  he 
sank  again  on  the  hard  stool. 

Could  his  heartless  persecutor  have  seen  him  as  he  sat  there, 
ready  to  sink  under  the  weight  of  his  fearful  doom,  surely  he 
would  have  felt  that  he  was  fully  avenged.  This  unfeeling  crea- 
ture was  revelling  in  dissipation  and  vice,  while  his  victim  was 
writhing  in  anguish.  "Why,  oh,  why  is  it  that  the  base  and  grov- 
elling are  often  so  prosperous,  are  permitted  to  sit  in  high  places 
and  grind  beneath  their  crushing  injustice  the  protid  and  noble 
soul,  who  finds  no  means  of  defence,  no  power  of  redress  ? 

"When  these  anomalous  aspects  of  human  society  present  them- 
selves, we  are  led  to  ask,  is  there  a  hand  of  inflexible  justice  deal- 
ing out  to  all,  impartially,  the  reward  of  their  deeds  ?  If  so,  why 
do  the  wicked  and  debased  prosper,  and  why  are  the  true  and  ele- 
vated dashed  to  tlie  earth  beneath  their  infamous  power  ?  Philos- 
ophy cannot  solve  the  question.  Enigmatical  it  must  ever  remain 
to  tliat  man  who  seeks  not  its  solution  in  the  words  of  heavenly 
wisdom,  which  tells  us,  "When  the  wicked  spring  as  the  grass, 
and  when  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  do  flourish,  it  is  that  they 
shall  he  destroy ed  forever.  For  yet  a  little  while,  and  the  wicked 
shall  not  be ;  yea,  thou  shalt  diligently  consider  his  place,  and  it 
shall  not  be." 

Harry  Roberts  sat  in  his  dark,  noisome  prison,  filled  with  the 
most  despondent  thoughts.  He  could  see  no  gleam  of  light,  look 
which  way  he  might.  His  future  was  without  promise.  He  saw 
nothing  before  him  but  captivity,  ending  in  death.  He  felt  that 
having  once  escaped,  he  would  hereafter  be  the  object  of  increased 
vigilance  and  of  additional  insult.  And  when  he  looked  away 
to  the  object  of  his  soul's  adoration,  the  gloom  deepened,  until  all 
was  cheerless  night.  Could  he  shield  her  from  suffering,  chagrin, 
disappointment,  he  would  not  murmur  at  his  own  fate.  It  was 
for  Evangeline  far  more  than  himself  that  he  sorrowed.  But 
how  unavailing  all  this  grief!  He  could  give  her  no  assistance, 
no  protection.  To  a  proud,  self-reliant  spirit  this  sense  of  utter 
inability  to  shield  or  defend  a  loved  gne  is  maddening.     Eobbed 


OF   MOKGAN   AND   HIS   METS^.  369 

of  the  power  to  exercise  tlie  right  of  protecting  the  weak  and  de- 
pendent, a  noble  man  sinks  in  liis  own  estimation  into  notliingness. 
How  many  a  brave,  defiant  Southern  heart  has  had  to  endure  this 
unspeakable  humiliation  since  the  war  began  ! 

"While  Harry  was  thus  groping  liis  way  amid  the  darkness  of 
the  ])resent  and  future,  Evangeline  and  lier  friend,  Mary,  were 
pursuing  their  way  towards  Bardstown.  Having  obtained  a  per- 
mit, they  entertained  but  little  apprehension  of  annoyance  or  delay 
from  the  Federal  pickets  that  guarded  the  road  over  which  they 
had  to  pass.  They  were  accompanied  by  "Willie  R.,  the  younger 
brother  of  Charley,  who  was  to  escort  them  to  Bardstown,  at 
which  point  they  were  to  place  themselves  under  the  charge  of 
Mary's  cousin,  who  would  give  thein  safe  conduct  to  Lexington, 
if  it  were  possible  to  reach  that  point;  if  not,  they  were  to  be  taken 
within  Confederate  lines,  and  there  remain  until  Mr.  Lawrence,  or 
his  son,  or  young  Roberts  could  be  heard  from. 

On  the  two  girls  travelled,  the  subjects  of  alternate  hope  and 
fear.  At  one  moment  the  prospect  before  them  appeared  cheer- 
ing— the  plan  agreed  upon  so  feasible,  success  so  certain  ;  and 
then  again  all  was  doubt,  diflBculty,  failure.  To  Evangeline,  who 
was  leaving  behind  her  all  the  friends  and  associations  of  her 
girlhood,  bidding  them  adieu  forever,  to  go  forth  into  a  strange 
land,  where  there  would  be  but  one  heart  to  appreciate  her  sacri- 
fices— many  to  turn  with  coldness  away,  some  to  censure — to  her 
young  ardent  soul  the  journey  before  them  was  one  of  the  most- 
momentous  bearing.  "Vain  were  it  to  attempt  a  description  of  her 
varied  and  conflicting  thoughts  and  emotions.  Sometimes  she 
would  weep  sadly,  as  the  probabilities  of  disappointment  and  con- 
sequent mortification  rose  up  vividly  before  her  excited  imagina- 
tion ;  then  again  she  was  wild  with  blissful  anticipations  at  the 
glad  future  that  opened  up  before  her,  when,  all  her  trials  past, 
she  would  safely  repose  on  the  bosom  of  him  for  whom  she  had 
yielded  up  every  promise  which  had  so  brightly  beamed  over  her 
pathway — should  listen  to  his  burning  words  of  love — receive  the 
full  and  tender  sympathy  of  his  pure  affectionate  soul — rest  on 
his  strong  arm  for  protection,  and  claim  him  her  own  for  life.  It 
was  a  strange,  a  novel  undertaking  for  one  so  young,  one  reared 
in  the  indulgence  of  every  desire,  however  wild  or  capricious  ;  but 
Evangeline  possessed,  all  unknown  to  herself  and  her  friends,  the 
characteristics  of  a  heroine.  Independence  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing, determination  to  brave  difficulties  and  endure  hardships,  a 
commendable  freedom  from  the  trammels  of  public  opinion,  will 


870  EAroS    AND   ROMANCE 

to  accomplish  undertakings  although  fraught  with  danger — all 
these  were  traits  of  character  which  a  close  observer  would  have 
marked  as  possessed  by  her.  And  now  the  incentive  of  love — of 
deep,  deathless  affection  for  him  to  whomshe  had  given  her  heart, 
.called  into  exercise  and  prompted  to  unwonted  energy  these  ele- 
ments of  character,  which,  for  want  of  opportunity  to  make  them- 
selves manifest,  had  been  hitherto  comparatively  dormant. 

Mary  shared  her  young  friend's  alternate  gloom  and  joy.  There 
was  even  a  darker  cloud  in  her  horizon,  one  that  overshadowed 
all  the  brightness  of  her  future  landscape.  It  was  the  uncertain- 
ty with  regard  to  Charley's  fate,  which  hourly  haunted  her 
thoughts. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?"  was  the  question  that  constantly  recurred  to  her 
mind ;  and  the  possibility  that  this  might  be  so,  took  away  the 
light  that  would  otherwise  haive  gilded  the  eventful  life  she  was 
now  entering  upon.  That  she  should  meet  her  father  and  brother 
she  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt.  She  had  set  out  to  do  this,  and 
she  calculated  upon  no  failure.  She  might  encounter  many  diffi- 
culties, but  it  was  practical  and  must  be  achieved. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  they  reached  Bardstown,  they  having 
been  delayed  on  the  way  by  the  breaking  of  one  of  the  axletrees 
to  the  carriage.  Most  persons  had  retired  at  the  hotel  at  which 
they  rested  for  the  night,  so  that  they  had  no  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing any  thing  respecting  the  relative  position  of  the  two  armies. 
Weary  and  worn  they  sought  their  room,  after  having  partaken  of 
a  cup  of  tea  and  some  cold  bread  which  the  landlord  had  hastily 
prepared  for  them. 

Morning  came,  and  found  them  sleeping  after  the  fatigue  of  their 
journey.  The  sun  was  shining  fully  when  Mary  awoke.  It  had 
been  their  plan  to  drive  out  to  her  aunt's  before  breakfast,  that 
they  might  proceed  several  miles  on  their  way  during  the  day. 

Awakening  Evangeline,  the  two  made  a  hasty  toilet  and  de- 
scended to  the  breakfast- room.  They  were  but  just  seated  at  the 
table  when  three  young  gentlemen  entered  and  placed  themselves 
near  the  foot  of  the  table,  on  the  same  side  with  themselves. 
Neither  of  the  young  girls  looked  towards  them.  They  were 
scarcely  in  their  places  before  a  middle-aged  man,  who  was  enjoy- 
ing his  coffee  and  hot  roll  on  the  opposite  side,  called  out  in 
rather  a  loud  tone  of  voice : 

"  Wl>at  news  this  morning,  Lasley  ?     I  hear  a  courier  is  in." 

At  the  mention  of  this  name  Evangeline  started,  looked  sudden- 
ly around,  and  turned  deadly  pale.     The  young  man  who  sat  next 


OF   MOKGAlf   AND    HIS   MEN.  371 

her  observed  the  movement,  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  in  cu- 
rious wonder.  She  was  aware  of  his  fixed  gaze,  and  she  strove 
to  cahn  herself.  His  companions  reading  his  surprise  in  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face,  followed  his  example,  and  directed  their  look 
towards  the  head  of  the  table  where  the  two  girls  sat.  Evange- 
line was  trembling  with  emotion,  vainly  endeavoring  to  preserve 
an  unmoved  exterior.  Mary  saw  her  agitation,  and  measurably 
partook  of  it,  as  she  realized  that  the  attention  of  all  at  table  was 
directed  to  them.  Despite  herself,  the  blood  would  mount  to  her 
face,  and  her  hand  perceptibly  quivered  as  she  conveyed  the  cup 
of  coffee  to  her  lips. 

Across  young  Lasley 's  face  there  shot  a  look  of  triumph,  and  in 
his  eye  there  gleamed  an  expression  of  revengeful  satisfaction,  as 
he  became  assured  of  the  presence  of  his  helpless  victim. 

Elevating  his  voice  above  its  natural  tone,  so  that  his  words 
might  reach  the  ear  of  Evangeline,  he  replied  to  the  interrogatory 
of  the  gentleman : 

"  The  news  is  most  gratifying,  indeed.  A  courier  just  in  from 
Perryville,  brings  the  reliable  intelligence  that  we  whipped  the 
rebels  all  to  pieces  on  yesterday,  and  they  are  now  flying,  routed 
and  panic-stricken,  in  the  direction  of  Lancaster,  making  their  way 
out  of  the  State  as  fast  as  they  can.  Buell  is  sure  to  overtake 
them  before  they  can  reach  Stanford,  and  the  great  probability  is 
that  the  whole  army  will  be  captured." 

"Is  it  possible!"  exclaimed  the  first  speaker.  "I  fear  this  is 
too  good  to  be  believed.     Is  the  man  to  be  relied  on  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly.  This  is  the  news  that  is  to  be  sent  to  Louis- 
ville.    It  is  official." 

"  And  did  we  suffer  much  loss  ?" 

"Pretty  heavy,  but  by  no  means  sufficient  to  delay  an  imme- 
diate pursuit.  General  Buell  will  move  on  this  morning  after  the 
scattered  and  flying  troops  of  Bragg.  The  Confederate  campaign 
in  Kentucky  is  at  an  end,  sir.  The  army  is  literally  destroyed, 
not  one  in  twenty  will  ever  get  back  to  tell  the  story  of  their  dis- 
astrous defeat." 

Mary  and  Evangeline  sat  like  statues,  pale  and  immovable. 
Riveted  to  their  seats  by  the  very  horror  of  the  intelligence  they 
heard,  they  felt  as  if  they  should  faint  under  its  crushing  weight. 
Tiiey  looked  at  each  other  with  an  expression  of  fearful  wonder, 
but  neither  spoke.  They  essayed  to  eat,  that  their  agitation  might 
not  be  observed.  But  they  could  not  swallow  their  food,  and 
trembling,  hopeless,  helpless,  they  sat  listening  to  the  conversa- 


372  KAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

tioD,  every  word  of  which  fell  like  a  death  sentence  on  their 
ears. 

"  Oh,  we  will  make  short  work  of  these  invaders  of  our  soil," 
said  Laslej,  his  very  tone  speaking  the  gratification  of  his  heart. 
"  We'll  teach  them  a  lesson  they  will  not  soon  forget.  Their  au- 
dacity is  unparalleled.  Who  asked  them  to  come  into  our  State  to 
steal,  and  thieve,  and  destroy  ?  What  right  had  they  to  use  Union 
men  as  they  have  done,  and  to  possess  themselves  of  our  property, 
as  they  have  been  constantly  doing?  By  the  way,  we  have  got 
one  of  these  patriots,  one  of  Morgan's  men,  in  prison  here — a  fel- 
low that  escaped  from  Louisville  on  his  way  to  Camp  Chase,  and 
who  had  succeeded  in  getting  this  far  on  his  route  to  the  Confed- 
erate army." 

At  this  announcement  the  knife  dropped  from  Evangeline's 
hand,  her  heart  stood  still,  all  the  color  forsook  her  face,  her  brain 
reeled,  and  she  felt  as  if  she  would  fall  from  her  seat. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  something  of  it  when  I  reached  town  on  yester- 
day. Who  is  the  young  fellow  ?  and  how  did  it  happen  he  was 
recognized  ?" 

Evangeline  listened  with  her  soul  to  catch  Lasley's  answer. 

"  His  name  is  Harry  Roberts,"  replied  the  heartless  wretch, 
slowly  and  emphatically.  "  He  was  sauntering  along  the  street 
here,  in  all  security,  when  I  recognized  him,  and  knowing  that  he 
was  a  fugitive  from  justice,  I  had  him  arrested  and  placed  in  con- 
finement until  he  can  be  sent  back  to  Louisville." 

Evangeline  could  hear  no  more.  She  aro^,  left  the  room,  and 
finding,  she  knew  not  how,  the  chamber  where  they  had  slept  the 
night  before,  she  staggered  to  the  bed,  on  which  she  threw  her- 
self, and  lay  rigid,  immovable,  a?  one  bereft  of  life.  Mary  fol- 
lowed her  quickly.  Finding  her  in  this  frightful  condition,  not- 
withstanding her  own  heart  was  breaking,  she  set  about  restoring 
her  to  consciousness.  Bathing  her  face  in  cold  water,  and  apply- 
ing to  her  nose  a  small  bottle  of  sal.  volatile  which  she  chanced  to 
have  in  her  pocket,  and  chafing  her  hands  and  forehead,  she  suc- 
ceeded at  last  in  partially  arousing  her.  The  young  girl  opened 
her  eyes,  looked  wildly  about  her,  and  then,  with  a  shudder, 
closed  them  again  and  moaned.  Mary  was  alarmed  at  her  ap- 
pearance. Her  first  impulse  was  to  call  for  aid,  but  feeling  that 
their  position  was  one  that  demanded  the  greatest  caution,  she 
determined  to  keep  the  whole  matter  as  secret  as  possible.  Dis- 
patching William  R.  for  a  servant  to  bring  fresh  water,  she 
locked  the  door,  lowered  the  blinds,  and  undoing  Evangehne's 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  373 

travelling  dress,  and  removing  every  thing  that  might  impede 
circulation,  she  continued  to- bathe  her  temples  and  rub  her  hands, 
at  intervals  applying  the  ammonia.  After  awhile  Evangeline 
opened  her  eyes  a  second  time,  and  gazed  up  imploringly  into  the 
face  of  her  young  friend,  who  was  bending  over  her  with  all  the 
tenderness  of  a  sister. 

""  lie  is  in  prison,  Mary,"  she  said,  slowly  and  mournfully. 
'•  My  life  is  lost ;  oh,  that  1  could  die  !" 

"Do  not  talk  so,  Evangeline,  there  is  yet  hope,"  replied  Mary, 
feeling  that  she  must  maintain  all  calmness  and  courage.  "Bet- 
ter there  than  dead.  We  may  yet  manage  to  relieve  him.  Cliar- 
ley,  you  know,  has  been  a  prisoner  three  times.  There  is  hope 
for  Harry,  certainly." 

Evangeline  shook  her  head  despairingly.  "  No,  no  !"  she  said, 
as  she  closed  her  eyes,  while  the  great  liquid  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  Oh,  yes !  there  is  hope,  great  hope,  Evangeline.  I  will  send 
for  Lasley  and  get  him  to  interfere.  He  can  be  influenced  to 
exert  himself  in  Harry's  behalf.  Don't  give  up  ;  it  will  all  be 
right.  These  are  times  when  we  must  not  suffer  ourselves  to  be 
overcome  by  difliculties,  however  insuperable  they  may  appear." 

"But  what  shall  I  do,  Mary  ?"  asked  Evangeline,  aroused  by 
Mary's  words  and  look  of  calm  determination. 

"  Send  for  Lasley,  and  appeal  to  him — surely  he  cannot  be 
heartless  ;  he  will  interfere  for  Harry." 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  know  Lasley,  Mary ;  he  is  prompted  by  no 
motive  but  self-interest  and  gratification.  I  can  appeal  to  him — 
but  oh,  it  will  be  so  humiliating !  yet  for  Harry's  sake  I  could 
prostrate  myself  before  him,  and  plead  as  a  slave  to  his  master; 
but  it  will  be  in  vain — he  will  not  hear  me — his  heart  is  hard, 
selfish,  brutal." 

"  But,  Evangeline,  it  is  the  only  hope  I  see  for  Harry's  release. 
It  may  not  succeed,  but  certainly  the  object  is  worth  the  trial ; 
and  what  is  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly.  You  heard  what 
he  said  about  the  retreat  of  the  Confederates  from  the  State;  it 
may  already  be  too  late  for  us  to  overtake  them." 

"Send  for  Lasley,  Mary;  and  yet,  how  can  I  meet  him — 
how  ask  a  favor  at  his  hands?"  she  said,  a  look  of  disdain 
overspreading  her  face;  "but  it  is' for  Harry — for  him  I  will 
liurable  myself  even  to  the  dust.  Were  it  for  myself  I  would  die 
— die  before  I  would  encounter  this  heartless,  detestable  man. 
Perhaps,  Mary,  he  will  not  see  me,"  she  said,  as  she  stood  before 


374  RAIDS    AND   ROMANCE 

the  mirror,  smoothing  her  dark  hair  back  from  her  aching  fore- 
head. 

"  You  can  but  try.  "Willie  has  gone  to  ask  him  to  the  parlor  to 
meet  you  there." 

"  You  must  go  with  me,  Mary ;  I  cannot  see  him  alone." 

"  Yes,  Evangie,  I  will  go  with  you,  and  give  you  all  the  assist- 
ance I  can."  ■ 

In  the  course  of  fifteen  minutes,  which  appeared  hours  to  the 
waiting  girls,  William  R.  returned  and  informed  them  that  Lasley 
was  in  the  parlor  awaiting  them. 

l^erving  herself  for  the  task  before  her,  Evangeline,  leaning  on 
Mary's  arm,  descended  to  the  parlor  and  confronted  young  Las- 
ley.  As  she  met  him,  she  felt  all  the  spirit  of  defiance  of  which 
her  nature  was  capable  swell  her  bosom.  Her  face  assumed  a 
look  of  hauteur — her  eyes  fixed  themselves  resolutely  on  his — her 
proud  lips  compressed,  while  her  nostrils  expanded — that  unmis- 
takable evidence  of  determination  and  conscious  superiority. 

He  received  her  with  the  air  of  one  who,  aware  of  his  own  per- 
sonal weakness,  yet  feels  strong  in  the  power  of  circumstances. 
Mary  left  them  alone,  and  walked  out  on  the  gallery, 

"  I  come,"  she  said  to  him  as  she  seated  herself,  "  to  ask  you  if 
it  is  in  your  power  to  have  Harry  Roberts  released  from  prison." 

"  Indeed !"  he  responded,  with  bitter  scorn.  "  Do  you  come  to 
me.  Miss  Lenoir,  to  ask  a  favor  ?  to  me,  whom  you  have  insulted, 
taunted,  derided  ?  I  would  scarcely  think  you  would  ask  of  me, 
whom  you  have  thus  treated,  to  render  you  assistance — to  aid  my 
rival,  my  foe !" 

"  Harry  has  ne^er  injured  you,  Edward  Lasley.  Nor  would  he 
ask  this  at  your  hands — he  would  perish  first — die  in  prison  a 
thousand  times  rather.  It  is  I — I  come  to  beseech  you  for  my 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  humanity,  of  mercy,  to  act  if  you  have  any 
influence,  any  power." 

"  When  I  besought  you.  Miss  Lenoir,  to  have  compassion  on  me, 
to  relieve  my  feelings,  did  you  do  it?  How  did  you  act  when  I 
supplicated  ?  Did  I  not  tell  you  then  we  would  meet  again  ?  and 
now  my  words  are  fulfilled.  The  scene  is  changed ;  it  is  you  who 
now  sues.  Should  I  heed  your  plea  ?  Remember  your  own  scorn, 
your  indifierence,  your  neglect!  Though  late,  revenge  has  come 
at  last ;  we  have  met  again.  You  shall  never  marry  Harry 
Roberts.     My  words  are  now  made  good." 

"You  knew,  Edward  Lasley,  why  I  did  not  marry  you.  I  told 
you  I  did  not  love  you,  that  my  heart  was  another's.     Would  you 


OF   MORGAN    AND  .  HIS   MEN.  3Y5 

have  wedded  me  with  this  fact  staring  you  in  the  face?  Could 
you  have  proved  so  false  to  yourself,  to  every  pure  and  noble  sen- 
timent, as  to  wish  me  to  marry  you  when  my  atfections  clung  to 
another?" 

"  But  I  loved  you,  Evangeline.  You  promised  to  be  mine ;  you 
broke  that  vow,  and  refused  to  see  me." 

''  If  I  have  wronged  you,  Edward  Lasley,  I  ask  your  forgiveness. 
I  acted  hastily  in  promising  to  marry  you;  I  should  have  con- 
sidered the  subject.  Had  I  done  this,  I  would  not  have  fallen  into 
this  fatal  error.  But  was  it  not  best,  right,  just,  when  I  found 
that  I  had  acted  unwisely — that  I  did  not,  could  not  love  you — to 
tell  you  so,  and  thus  save  us  both  a  life  of  misery !  Surely,  Ed- 
ward Lasley,  you  cannot  upbraid  me  for  this.  Why,  oh !  why  do 
you  torture  me  ?  Will  you  endeavor  to  have  Harry  released,  or 
shall  I  plead  in  vain?" 

*'  There  is  one  condition,  Evangeline,  and  only  one,  on  which  I 
will  grant  your  request." 

"  And  what  is  this !"  the  excited  girl  exclaimed  eagerly.  "  Say, 
say !  I  promise  any  thing.  Just  release  Harry,  let  him  once  again 
be  free,  and  you  may  demand  of  me  whatever  you  choose.  I  will 
grant  any  request.     ITame  it,  name  it!" 

''  Be  careful  how  you  promise,"  he  replied,  while  his  lip  curled 
with  irony,  "you  may  have  again  to  repent  a  rash  vow." 

"  Harry,  Harry  !  if  he  is  free,  I  ask  no  more !  Any  thing,  even 
my  life,  to  save  him  !" 

"  The  condition  is" — and  the  young  man  fixed  his  eye  intently 
on  the  girl  before  him  as  he  slowly  uttered  his  horrid  stipulation. 
She  trembled  under  his  look  and  the  ominous  tone  of  his  voice. 
"  The  condition  is — and  it  is  the  only  one — that  you  will  marry  me 
at  the  time  mentioned  in  your  last  note." 

''  Oh  !  heaven  pity  me  !"  ejaculated  Evangeline,  starting  frantic- 
ally from  her  seat.  ''  Marry  you,  Edward  Lasley  ?  marry  you  ?  oh, 
how  can  you  ask  of  me  to  do  this  ?  Any  thing,  any  thing  but  this. 
This  is  not  the  only  condition  ;  it  cannot  be — you  would  not  be  so 
cruel— you  could  not  make  yourself  unhappy  for  Jife — curse  your- 
self and  me.  Oh,  no!  you  do  not  mean  this;  you  are  jesting, 
sporting  with  my  feelings.    I  beseech  you,  spare  me ;  oh,  spare  me !" 

Her  manner  was  wildly  excited,  her  face  livid  and  rigid,  her  lip 
quivered,  her  voice  was  harsh  and  broken,  she  trembled  in  every 
nerve  as  the  gazed  upon  him.  He  met  her  look  coldly,  calmly, 
unfeelingly.  Around  his  mouth  there  lurked  a  smile  of  fiendish 
enjoyment — in  his  eye  there  rested  a  look  of  dogged  determina- 


376  KAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

tioD.  He  spoke  not ;  but  sat,  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  suffering  girl, 
as  if  gloating  over  her  anguish.  Evangeline  read  his  thoughts, 
and  her  heart  beat  wildly. 

"You  do  not  ask  me  to  marry  you,  Edward  Lasley5"  she  re- 
sumed, after  some  moments'  pause,  during  which  he  did  not  remove 
his  steadfast  gaze.  "  Oh  !  you  do  not  require  this  of  me  as  the 
return  for  releasing  Harry  from  prison!  No,  no!  you  will  not  be 
so  cruel !" 

"Nothing  more  I  ask — nothing  less  will  satisfy  my  demand.  I 
love  you,  Evangeline,  and  have  determined  to  make  you  my  wife. 
Say  you  will  marry  me,  and  Harry  Roberts  shall  be  free  in  an 
hour ; — refuse,  and  the  setting  sun  shall  find  him  in  Louisville,  on 
his  way  to  a  ISTorthern  prison — and  I  suppose  to  death." 

"  I  do  not  love  you — I  tell  you  once  again,  I  cannot  love  yon, 
Edward  Lasley.     How  then  could  I  ever  consent  to  be  your  wife  ?" 

"  Marry  me,  and  you  will  afterwards  learn  to  love  me.  Marry 
me,  I  ask  no  more.  I  will  risk  all  the  consequences." 
/  She  bowed  her  head,  as  if  in  deep  thought.  But  how  could  her 
poor  distracted  brain  think — reeling  as  it  was  with  the  horrors  of 
the  destiny  that  awaited  her — let  her  choose  as  she  might.  Silent 
and  bewildered  she  sat  there,  stupefied  with  grief. 

"  You  must  answer  me  now,  Evangeline.  There  is  no  time  to 
lose.  In  half  an  hour  the  stage  will  leave  for  Louisville,  and  un- 
less you  consent  to  ray  proposal,  Roberts  shall  be  sent  down." 

"  Oh !  wait — wait — let  rae  have  time  to  think.  I  cannot  decide 
— the  question  is  too  momentous." 

"  No  time  for  wasting ;  you  must  conclude  speedily.  A  few 
minutes  must  decide  the  question  forever.     It  rests  with  you." 

"Oh  !  Harry,  Harry  !"  exclaimed  Evangeline,  as  she  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands.  "  Must  I  make  this  great  sacrifice? — must  I 
marry  him,  and  leave  you  forever?  Oh!  how  can  I  do  this! 
And  yet,  if  I  refuse,  your  life  will  pay  the  forfeit.  We  shall  never 
meet  again!  Yes,  yes,"  she  said  to  herself,  "if  he  can  but  be 
free,  I  am  happy.  To  spare  him,  I  will  die ;  yes,  die.  I  will  give 
myself  for  hira.'L 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  consent  to  be  my  wife,  Evangeline?" 
said  Lasley,  as  these  low-spoken  words  fell  on  his  ear. 

She  looked  suddenly  up  at  him.  / 

"  You  will  have  Harry  released  if  I  promise  you  this  ;  you  will 
not  deceive  me?" 

"I  will  not  deceive  you,  Evangeline.     Roberts  shall  be  a  free 


OF   MOKGAN   AisD   HIS   MEN.  377 

man   and  placed  in  a  position   of  safety  before  the  sun  goes 
down." 

"Then  I  consent,"  she  said,  slowly,  in  a  low,  husky  voice,  as  if 
her  soul  spoke  out  its  eternal  doom  in  these  few  words. 

"  And  will  marry  me  at  the  appointed  time  ?" 

She  bowed  assent. 

"Remember,  Evangeline,  what  you  promise.  Do  not  deceive 
yourself— think  not  to  deceive  me." 

She  gazed  at  him,  but  replied  not. 

"And  when  shall  Harry  be  free?"  she  asked,  as  if  she  had 
naught  else  on  earth  to  desire  but  his  release  and  safety. 

"  Very  soon.     I  will  go  now  and  make  the  arrangements." 

"  And  may  I  not  see  him  once— just  once— to  bid  him  forewell; 
to  tell  him  all.  Oh  !  deny  me  not  this  request.  It  is  but  a  pooi: 
one — the  last  one." 

"  Yes  ;  you  may  go  with  me  to  the  prison,  Evangeline,  but  you 
must  remain  here  until  I  can  see  about  it.  I  will  call  in  a  few 
minutes  and  let  you  know." 

"And  do  you  mean,  Evangeline,  to  marry  him?"  asked  her 
friend,  who  entered  the  room  as  Lasley  left,  and  heard  from  the 
lips  of  the  desponding  girl  the  story  of  her  fearful  promise. 

"Oh,  ask  me  not,  Mary.  I  am  wild,  wild!"  and  Evangeline 
clasped  her  friend  in  the  agony  of  despair.  "Great  God!"  she 
exclaimed,  "what  have  I  done— what  shall  I  do!  Oh,  Harry, 
Harry!  must  I  be  torn  from  you  forever!" 

YouDg  Lasley  returned  to  announce  that  he  was  ready  to  go  to 
the  prison  to  see  about  the  release  of  Harry. 

"Oh,  go  with  me,  Mary,"  besought  Evangeline,  as  they  ascend- 
ed the  stairway  to  their  room.  "  Go  with  me,  Mary  ;  it  may  be 
the  last  favor  I  shall  ever  ask  of  you.  Will  you  go  through  the 
lines,  Mary  ?  Will  you  risk  yourself  in  the  present  wild  and  con- 
fused state  of  things  ?  Oh,  do  not  leave  me !  Stay,  stay,  there 
may  yet  come  relief." 

"  I  must  go,  Evangeline.  You  know  all  I  hold  most  dear  on 
earth  is  there.  My  father,  my  brother,  and— Charley— if  lie  still 
lives.  I  grieve  to  leave  you,  Evangeline,  but  yorfknow  my  heart 
is  with  the  South.  I  could  no  longer  live  amid  the  scenes  of  my 
once  happy,  but  now  desolate  home.  What  awaits  me  in  my  at- 
tempt to  get  out,  or  what  is  before  me  in  the  future,  I  know  not. 
It  is  all  darkly  wild,  fearfully  strange  ;  but  I  will  brave  it  «1I,  be- 
lieving it  to  be  right." 

Mary  threw  on  her  hat  and  tied  it,  and  was  in  the  act  of  put- 


378  RAIDS   AND  ROMANCE 

ting  on  her  gloves  to  join  Evangeline,  who  stood  awaiting  her, 
when  "Willie  R.  rushed  up  the  steps  and  into  the  room,  exclaiming 
in  broken  accents  : 

"  Morgan ! — Morgan  ! — Morgan  is  coming,  Miss  Mary !  Will  be 
in  this  town  directly  with  his  men !" 

The  two  girls  looked  at  the  agitated  boy  in  silent  astonishment. 
Had  he  lost  his  senses  ? 

"  It's  true !  it's  true,  Miss  Mary  !  I  heard  a  man  say  so,  who 
just  now  dashed  into  the  town — says  he  saw  them  all." 

"  He  is  deceiving  you,  Willie,"  said  Evangeline.  "  Somebody 
wants  to  create  an  excitement." 

Just  then  a  rush  was  heard  below-stairs.  The  two  girls  ran 
down  to  the  parlor  to  ascertain  its  cause.  They  there  encounter- 
ed some  ladies  and  several  gentlemen,  all  in  the  greatest  pertur- 
bation." 

'^Morgan!  Morgan!"  was  on  every  lip. 

"  Is  Colonel  Morgan  coming  here  ?"  asked  Mary,  of  the  gentle- 
man next  her. 

"  Yes,  miss ;  is  within  a  few  miles  of  the  place.  Will  be  here 
directly." 

"  May  there  not  be  some  mistake  about  it  ?" 

"  None  in  the  world — it  is  so.  I  have  seen  two  men  whom  I 
know  to  be  truthful.  They  saw  Morgan  at  the  head  of  his  forces 
but  a  few  minutes  ago,  coming  right  in  the  direction  of  tlie  town. 
The  whole  place  is  in  confusion.  Men  are  running  to  and  fro, 
and  the  soldiers  are  scared  to  death." 

"Will  they  offer  any  resistance,  sir?" 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  not.  It  would  be  useless  to  do  so.  There  is 
comparatively  but  a  small  force  here,  and  they  have  had  so  little 
warning,  that  they  could  not  prepare  to  fight.  Oh,  no,  they  will 
all  b^  made  prisoners." 

Evangeline  looked  around.  Lasley  was  gone.  Her  heart  throb- 
bed violently  as  she  thought  that  perhaps  he  had  gone  to  see  that 
Roberts  was  conveyed  to  some  point  beyond  the  reach  of  Morgan. 
By  this  time  the  hitherto  quiet  streets  of  the  httle  town  were  filled 
with  frantic  people  hurrying  to  and  fro.  "Morgan!  Morgan!" 
was  on  every  tongue.  Many  were  the  bright  faces  in  these  busy 
throngs,  as  it  became  certain  that  the  rumor  was  true.  There 
were  many  friends  to  the  Southern  cause  in  Bardstown,  ever 
ready  to  greet  the  champions  of  liberty  and  right. 

A  few  minutes  more  of  suspense  and  wild  conjecture,  and  the 
Confederates,  headed  by  their  gallant  leader,  dashed  into  the  town 


OF  MORGAN  AND   HIS  MEN.  379 

amid  the  cheers,  and  shouts,  and  loud  huzzas  of  the  expectant 
crowd. 

As  the  deafening  acclaim  rang  out  on  the  air,  Marj  and  Evan- 
geline rushed  with  others  to  the  gallery  of  the  hotel.  What  a  mo- 
ment of  rapture  to  these  two  anxious  hearts  ! 

"Freel  free!  Harry  will  now  be  free!"  shouted  Evangeline, 
forgetful  of  the  presence  of  those  around  her.  "Eree  !  free!  and 
I  released  from  that  fearful  engagement!  Oh,  God!  I  thank 
thee !"  and  she  clapped  her  hands  in  the  deUrium  of  joy. 

"  Be  still,  Evangie.  Watch  and  see  if  you  can  find  John,  my 
brother.     Oh,  if  he  is  only  with  them !" 

She  had  but  just  finished  the  words,  when  her  brother  came 
prancing  by.     He  chanced  to  be  looking  in  the  direction  of  the 
hotel.     As  Mary  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  form,  she  shouted  : 
"John,  John  !  my4)rother,  my  brother!" 

The  soldier  recognized  his  sister.  A  moment  more,  and  she 
was  clasped  in  his  arms. 

In  a  few  words  Mary  made  known  to  him  the  story  of  Harry 
Roberts's  imprisonment.  Without  delay  he  hastened  to  inform 
Colonel  Morgan,  who  immediately  sent  a  squad  of  men  to  open 
the  prison  doors,  and  set  the  prisoner  free. 

"  My  God,  Lawrence !  is  this  you  ?"  exclaimed  Harry,  as,  open- 
ing the  door  of  his  narrow  room,  he  met,  face  to  face,  the  friend 
of  his  childhood,  his  deliverer.  How  came  you  here  ?  and  how 
did  you  know  I  was  in  this  wretched  place  ?" 

While  he  spoke,  he  continued  to  shake  the  hand  of  his  friend 
warmly,  his  face  speaking  out  the  full  gratitude  of  his  soul. 

"  We  came  to  deliver  you  from  the  cljitches  of  the  Yanks,  and 
we  have  accomplished  our  purpose,  you  see,"  answered  Law- 
rence. 

"Thanks,  thanks,  a  thousand  thanks  for  your  opportune  pres- 
ence. I  was  daily  looking  to  be  sent  to  Camp  Chase  or  the  gal- 
lows. You  know  this  is  my  second  arrest,  and  I  wasn't  sure  they 
wouldn't  hang  me.     But,  tell  me,  are  all  the  boys  here  ?" 

"  Come  out  and  see.  Are  you  so  attached  to  your  headquar- 
ters as  to  be  unwilling  to  leave  them  ?  Really  it  looks  like  it. 
You  are  a  free  man.     Come,  enjoy  your  liberty." 

Just  outside  the  door  stood  Brent,  Irving,  Curd,  and  other  of 
Harry's  friends,  awaiting  his  appearance.  When  they  saw  him 
they  made  the  air  ring  with  their  shouts  of  congratulation.  Each 
in  turn  grasped  his  hand,  and  shook  it  warmly,  as  they  welcomed 
him  back  to  the  privileges  of  a  freeman  and  a  soldier.     It  was  a 


380  RAIDS   AND   ROMANCE 

hfippy  moment  for  Harry,  one  he  had  never  expected  to  realize. 
There  was  but  one  apprehension  to  mar  his  joy,  that  was  fear  for 
Evangehne.  He  longed  to  ask  if  any  thing  had  been  heard  from 
her,  but  he  deemed  it  so  impossible  that  he  dared  not  venture  the 
question. 

The  boys  conducted  him  to  the  hotel.  Following  Lawrence,  he 
entered  the  parlor. 

"  Harry  !"  Evangeline  could  say  no  more,  as  she  sprang  from 
her  seat  towards  him. 

He  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  Not  a  word  escaped  his  lips. 
The  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes,  and  fell  from  his  manly  cheeks. 

"  Evangeline !  Evangeline  !  Oh,  God  !  and  you  are  here  safe!" 
he  said,  as  soon  as  he  could  find  utterance.  "  How  came  you 
here,  Evangeline  ?  Do  tell  me  !  As  soon  would  I  have  expected 
to  have  met  an  angel  visitant  from  heaven  as  you.  Did  you  know 
I  was  here?  No,  no,  you  could  not.  I  thought  you  were  at 
Lexington,  or  perhaps  had  not  yet  left  Louisville." 

The  young  girl  related  to  her  lover  the  outline  of  lier  adven 
tures.  When  she  mentioned  Lasley's  name,  Harry  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  asked  where  he  could  be  found.  She  dared  not  tell  him 
of  the  insult — the  infamous  promise  extracted  from  her.  She 
knew  that  Lasley's  life  would  be  the  propitiation  for  his  deep, 
damning  wrong. 

"  Oh,  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  him,"  interposed  Lawrence. 
"  Wickliffe  will  attend  to  his  case.  I  expect  he  is  now  occupying 
your  room  at  your  late  headquarters." 

''  There  he  goes  now,  I  suppose,"  said  Brent,  looking  down  from 
the  window.  "  Wickliffe  has  some  young,  black-haired  upstart  in 
charge." 

There  was  a  general  rush  to  the  balcony.  Lasley  looked  up  at 
the  sudden  movement.  His  eye  rested  on  Evangeline  beside  Har- 
ry Roberts.  The  vanquisher  was  vanquished.  His  eyes  fell  to 
the  ground,  and  he  marched  on  powerless  as  a  child,  chagrined, 
disappointed.  A  short  walk  brought  him  to  the  jail.  Conduct- 
ing him  in,  the  boys  left  him  alone  to  his  own  reflections. 

Mary  immediately  informed  John  of  her  intention  to  accompany 
him  through  to  Tennessee. 

'•  How  can  this  be  done,  Mary  ?     It  is  impossible." 

"Not  impossible,  John.  You  and  Harry  must  get  a  carriage, 
and  send  us  under  special  escort.  You  tell  me  ladies  have  gone 
out  from  Lexington.  There  is  Mrs.  John  C.  Breckinridge  and 
others  now  under  the  protection  of  General  Bragg's  army  finding 


OF   MORGAN    AND   HIS   MEN.  381 

their  way  South.  You  know  father  expected  rae  through.  How 
dreadful  he  must  have  felt  when  he  found  I  did  not  come!  He 
thinks  I  am  in  Louisville,  of  course,  separated  from  him — perhaps 
forever.  Oh,  I  must  go  through,  let  it  cost  what  it  may.  I  can 
take  no  denial." 

A  plan  was  soon  devised  that  promised  entire  safety.  A  vehi- 
cle was  procured,  and  all  arrangements  made  for  the  party  to  set 
out  after  dinner.  John  Lawrence  was  transformed  into  a  plain, 
peaceable  citizen,  by  donninjf  the  civilian's  suit  of  black  cloth  that 
Evangeline  had  purchased  to  insure  Harry's  safety,  and  which  she 
had  taken  the  precaution  to  place  in  her  carpet-sack  while  Harry 
readily  metamorphosed  himself  into  a  soldier,  by  enrobing  in 
John's  military  garb,  and  taking  possession  of  his  horse  and  all 
accoutrements. 

It  was  decided  that  they  should  travel  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
keeping  under  the  protection  of  the  cavalry  force  until  beyond 
danger  from  the  few  Federals  that  were  scattered  around  in  the 
country  intervening  between  Bardstown  and  Elizabethtown. 

i^ever  did  a  happier  party  set  out  on  a  perilous  journey.  Ap- 
prehension had  given  place  to  a  feeling  of  security,  agitation  had 
changed  to  tranquillity,  sorrow  to  joy. 

On  they  travelled  as  rapidly  as  it  was  practicable,  meeting  with 
no  danger,  encountering  no  cause  of  alarm — a  merry,  cheery  com- 
pany, where  past  trials  were  all  forgotten  in  the  bliss  of  the  pres- 
ent, and  the  promise  of  the  future. 

When  between  New  Haven  and  Elizabethtown,  the  Confeder- 
ates encountered  a  wagon-train  of  supplies,  guarded  by  a  small 
Federal  force.  After  a  slight  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  Yan- 
kees, the  whole  was  captured  and  destroyed.  This  was  the  first 
acquaintance  with  the  "  art  of  war"  that  Evangeline  and  Marj' 
had  had,  and  brave  as  they  were,  their  hearts  quailed  as  they 
heard  the  rapid  clash,  the  quick,  successive  firing  of  the  musketry. 
After  this  encounter,  Colonel  Morgan  swept  over  the  country  be- 
tween Elizabethtown  and  Mumfordsville  towards  the  Ohio  river, 
and  formed  a  junction  with  Colonel  Johnson  in  tlie  neighborhood 
of  Henderson.  His  object  was  to  secure  recruits,  and  give  oppor- 
tunity to  the  guerillas  of  these  counties  to  get  through  into  Ten- 
nessee, and  in  this  he  succeeded  finely,  accomplishing  his  purpose, 
besides  destroying  Federal  stores  at  many  points,  and  interrupting 
communication  with  Nashville, 


382  KAIDS   AND   KOMANCE 


CHAPTER  LYI. 


THE    CONSUMMATION. 


The  two  girls  under  the  care  of  young  Lawrence  pursued  their 
journey  into  Tennessee  by  the.  way  of  Glasgow  and  Hartsville, 
and  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day  arrived  at  Mr.  Jamison's,  in 
the  vicinity  of  McMinnville.  Tlirough  the  kind  assistance  and 
direction  of  friends,  they  had  avoided  every  semblance  of  danger. 
The  trip  had  been  one  of  fatigue  and  anxiety,  but  all  this  was  for- 
gotten by  the  happy  party,  as  they  sat  around  the  cheerful  fire  of 
the  hospitable  farmer  and  recounted  their  adventures. 

Mr.  Jamison  informed  them  that  Charley  had  recovered,  and 
had  passed  through  his  neighborhood  a  few  days  before,  taking 
dinner  with  him.  He  was  on  his  way  into  Kentucky  to  join  his 
command. 

Mary's  eager  heart  heard  the  intelligence  of  his  recovery  with 
a  thankful  joy  which  no  words  could  portray,  but  when  she  was 
informed  of  his  mission  into  Kentucky,  fear  and  despondency 
seized  her  soul.  She  felt  that  fate  was  against  her.  She  had 
risked  all  tq  come  to  Charley,  and  now  he  was  gone,  perhaps  to 
become  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

Evangeline  endeavored  to  console  her,  by  telling  her  that 
Charley  would  very  soon  obtain  information  of  the  Confederate 
retreat  from  Kentucky,  and  return  to  McMinnville.  But  her  fears 
were  aroused.  She  could  see  nothing  but  disappointment  hover- 
ing over  her  future  pathway. 

Imagine  then  her  joy  when,  on  the  day  following,  Charley  rode 
up  to  Mr.  Jamison's. 

As  Evangeline  had  said,  he  had  learned  that  Colonel  Morgan 
was  coming  out  of  the  State,  and  knowing  that  he  would  likely 
establish  his  headquarters  at  McMinnville,  he  had  returned  to  Mr. 
Jamison's  to  await  him. 

The  meeting  was  as  unexpected  to  Charley  as  Mary,  and  their 
mutual  joy  at  thus  again  beholding  each  other,  after  all  the  trials, 
suspense,  and  anxiety  that  had  tortured  their  hearts  during  their 
separation,  was  akin  to  the  bliss  of  Eden,— was  as  the  light  from 


OF   MORGAN   AND   HIS   MEN.  383 

the  celestial  spheres  shining  into  theic  souls,  chasing  therefrom 
every  vestige  of  darkness  and  sadness.  • 

Two  days  more,  and  Colonel  Morgan,  with  his  force  now  large- 
ly increased  from  different  parts  of  Kentucky,  arrived  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  McMinnville,  and  encamped  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mr. 
Jamison.  Harry  Roberts  was  safe,  and  never  were  there  happier 
Iiearts  than  the  four  that,  on  the  evening  of  the  arrival  of  Colonel 
Morgan's  forces,  assembled  around  the  cheerful  board  of  the  kind 
host,  Mr.  Jamison. 

The  evening  passed  in  recitals  of  adventures  and  escapes.  Each 
had  a  thrilling  story  to  relate— a  history  in  itself  worthy  of  record. 
The  rapture  of  the  present  was  heightened  by  the  remembrance 
of  the  trials  of  the  past. 

There  are  times  in  the  life  of  every  individual  when  the  bliss  of 
years  concentres  in  a  few  fleeting  moments.  No  words  can  pic- 
ture the  joy  of  such  seasons.  They  are  brief,  but  in  their  rapid 
flight  they  write  remembrances  on  the  soul  as  with  the  point  of 
the  diamond— remembrances  which  all  the  vexation,  all  the  grief 
of  after-life  cannot  wipe  out  from  the  tablet  whereon  they  are  en- 
graved. There  they  remain,  unmarred,  ineffaceable — a  well-spring 
of  rapture  to  the  heart  as  long  as  it  continues  to  throb.  And  in 
old  age  we  look  back  from  the  gathering  shades  of  years  upon 
these  green  and  sunny  memories,  and  linger  around  their  blissful 
haunts  until  the  heart  is  young  again,  and  our  youth  is  renewed 
more  potently  than  if  we  had  drank  of  the  famed  Elixir  of  Life  of 
the  Oriental  magician. 

Such  a  moment  was  the  present  one  to  the  bounding  hearts  of  the 
lovers.  How  quickly  and  effectually,  as  if  under  the  magic  wand 
of  some  kind  genii,  did  all  past  sorrows,  all  apprehensions,  fade 
out  in  the  sunlight  which  was  now  flooding  their  enraptured  bosoms ! 

We  need  not  dwell  in  detail  on  the  incidents  of  the  few  succeed- 
ing days,  nor  give  our  readers  all  the  suggestions  of  the  various 
parties  as  to  the  proper  course  to  be  pursued  by  the  lovers.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  after  much  debate,  innumerable  propositions 
and  devising,  a  plan  was  finally  adopted,  and  all  necessary  arrange- 
ments made  for  its  speedy  consummation. 

A  week  passed.  Within  the  respectable  home  of  Mr.  Jamison, 
Colonel  Morgan  and  staff,  together  with  all  the  particular  friends 
of  Charley  and  Harry,  and  a  few  of  the  especial  acquaintances  of 
the  family,  were  assembled  to  witness  the  marriage  of  Mary  Law- 
rence and  Evanffeline  Lenoir  to  the  two  gallant  soldiers,  Charley 
R.  and  Harry  Roberts. 


384  RAIDS   AND   E0MA2TCE 

It  was  a  cool  evening  ic  October.  That  month  of  mingled  sad- 
ness and  beaut\'%-as  bidding  a  last,  an  eternal  farewell  to  earth. 
The  hand  of  autumn  had  dyed,  with  richest  hues,  the  foHage  of 
the  forest,  and  spread,  with  lavish  beauty,  over  all  nature  a  gar- 
ment of  gilded  splendor.  But  as  the  eye  rested  on  this  gorgeous 
vesture,  the  heart  read  beneath  it  all  lessons  of  decay  and  death. 
The  trappings  of  the  tomb  were  visible  through  all  the  gay  para- 
phernalia, and  amid  the  sweet  symphonies  could  be  heard  the  low 
wail  of  the  dirge  which  earth  chanted  for  her  bright  and  beautiful 
children,  so  soon  to  sleep  forever  in  the  deep,  dark  grave  which 
bad  relentlessly  swallowed  up,  age  after  age,  the  offspring  of  her 
care  and  nourishment. 

The  wind  sighed,  mournfully,  the  requiem  of  the  dead.  Through 
the  boughs  of  the  tall  old  trees  it  crept,  waking  them  to  notes  of 
saddest  music.  In  striking,  genial  contrast  to  the  darkness  and 
gloom  without,  was  the  happy,  cheerful  scene  within.  There 
glad  faces  beamed  brightly,  and  heart  went  out  to  heart  in  kindly 
sympath3\  The  bright  wood-fire  which  blazed  so  determinedly 
on  the  hearth,  as  if  resolved  to  add  its  quota  to  the  general  enjoy- 
ment, threw  a  cheery  aspect  over  the  scene ;  and  the  glad  faces 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jamison  plainly  spoke  the  pleasure  it  gave  them 
to  be  active  participants  on  an  occasion  so  happy.  It  was  a 
unique  affair — so  every  one  felt.  But  around  it  clustered  so  much 
of  novelty,  that  the  strangely  pecuhar  features  of  the  occasion  were 
lost  beneath  the  interest  that  this  very  novelty  excited. 

Dressed  in  deepest  mourning,  her  face  flushed  into  the  most 
transcendent  beauty,  Mary  Lawrence  entered  the  room,  leaning 
on  the  arm  of  Charley.  He  bore  himself  proudly  erect,  conscious 
of  the  responsibility  of  his  position,  and  the  consequences  involved 
in  the  sacred  relation  he  was  about  to  assume. 

Immediately  following  them  were  Evangeline  and  Harry.  In 
consonance  with  the  circumstances,  she  wore  a  silk  of  dark  olive, 
finished  at  the  neck  and  wrists  by  a  handsome  collar  and  cuffs  of 
Valenciennes  lace.  Her  rich  dark  hair  was  combed  back  from  the 
full  round  brow,  and  rolled  into  a  heavy  bandeau  behind  her  ears, 
covering  the  back  of  the  well-formed  head.  Some  simple  rose- 
buds were  her  only  ornament.  In  making  her  bridal  toilet  she 
recalled  the  conversation  that  had  occurred  on  the  occasion  of  her 
friend  Lu's  marriage,  and  tlie  handsome  breastpin  and  bracelet 
were  left  in  the  case,  and  the  place  of  the  former  supplanted  by 
some  fresh  rose-buds.  * 

It  was  a  strikingly  impressive  scene.     There  stood  two  manly 


OF  MOKGAN   AND  HIS   MEN.  385 

forms,  animated  bj  as  brave  and  daring  hearts  as  ever  tlirobbed 
in  human  bosom — exiles  from  their  homes,  defenders  of  the  high 
and  holy  cause  of  liberty  and  right— the  representatives  of  many 
a  fiercely  contested  and  successful  battle-field — the  escaped  vic- 
tims of  fiendisii  hate  and  cruelty  ;  while  beside  them,  leaning  con- 
fidingly on  them  for  protection  and  support,  stood  two  beautiful 
females,  who,  raised  in  indulgence  and  luxury,  accustomed  to  all 
that  can  make  life  pleasant,  and  throw  around  it  the  charms  of 
elegance  and  refinement,  had  forsaken  all  these  comforts  and  joys, 
had  encountered  hardship  and  danger,  that  they  might  solace  in 
exile,  relieve  in  distress,  and  comfort  in  affliction  these  brave 
men,  to  whom  they  had  given  the  true,  undying  afl:ection.of  their 
young  and  trusting  hearts.  Beautiful  picture  1  Life  does  not 
often  present  its  counterpart. 

The  minister  approached  and  stood  before  them.  Alluding  in 
brief,  chaste  words  to  tlie  peculiar  position  of  those  who  wea-e 
about  to  take  upon  themselves  the  sacred  vow,  he  proceeded  sol- 
emnly, yet  beautifully,  to  unite  them  in  the  holy  ties  of  marriage. 
And  thus,  after  trials  and  sorrows,  diflficulties  and  disappoint- 
ments, that  but  few  so  young  are  called  on  to.  endure  and  over- 
come, these  four  tried  but  heroic  hearts  found  at  last  the  full  con- 
summation of  their  hopes,  the  fruition  of  earthly  joy. 

And  here,  amid  their  happiness,  we  leave  them ;  bid  them  fare- 
well, while  gladness  beams  around  their  pathway,  and  fills  their 
young  and  bounding  hearts  with  bright  visions  of  that  future 
which  beckons  them  on  to  fresh  delights,  and  ever-awakening 
joys.  We  will  not  now  anticipate  and  portray  the  cares,  the 
anxieties,  the  fearful  looking-for  of  news  from  the  dread  battle- 
field—the sickening,  racking  disappointment  at  tidings  delayed — 
the  nights  of  watching,  the  days  of  waiting,  when  the  girl-wife, 
in  the  bitterness  of  separation  from  the  young  husband — gone 
forth  to  fresh  deeds  of  valor  and  blood — shall  wait,  and  watch, 
and  pray,  yea,  faint,  beneath  the  weight  of  disappointed  hope  and 
torturing  suspense.  Ah,  no  !  Let  us  nbt  lift  the  veil  that  would 
reveal  this  painful  panorama.  The  contrast  would  be  too  striking, 
too  sad. 

Victories  must  yet  be  won  ;  many  an  ensanguined  plain  must 
yet  attest  the  heroic  and  successful  struggles  of  Morgan  and  his 
men,  before  a  nation  can  shout,  in  loud  and  grateful  strains, 
*'  Victory  !  victory  !  !  independence  !  independence  !  !" 

That  day  approaches.  The  clouds  begin  to  lift  themselves  from 
the  horizon  of  our  national  future.     Already  the  faint  glimmerings 

17 


386  RAIDS   AND  EOMANCE,   ETC. 

of  the  day-dawn  of  peace  are  beginniog  to  throw  their  glowing 
light  through  the  dark  shades  that  have  so  long  enveloped  us. 
Let  us  hope  for  this  glorious  realization  of  our  desires,  pray  for  it, 
and,  above  all,  let  us  put  forth  every  energy,  strain  every  nerve, 
avail  ourselves  of  every  resource,  endure  every  hardship,  sur- 
mount every  obstacle,  vanquish  every  difficulty,  until  this  blessed 
era  shall  burst  upon  us,  and  we,  a  free  and  independent  people, 
shall  unite  as  wuth  one  voice  in  pxans  of  triumph  and  thanksgiv- 
ing. 

Already,  since  the  happy  scene  we  have  just  described,  have 
Hartsville,  Elizabethtown,  Muldrough's  Hill,  and  other  points 
borne  witness  to  the  indomitable  spirit  of  Morgan  and  of  Duke — 
of  Hanson  and  of  Hunt — of  Harper  and  Gano — of  Charley,  Harry, 
Burt,  Curd,  Irving,  Castleman,  Wickliffe,  Hawkins,  young  Mor- 
gan, and  numbers  of  unknown  heroes,  whose  endurances  and 
achievements,  full  of  chivalry  and  romance,  will  yet  be  added  to 
the  page  of  history,  as  deeds  worthy  the  emulation  and  praise  of 
their  grateful  and  admiring  countrymen ;  and  whose  names,  cov- 
ered with  glory,  shall  become  household  words  with  a  free  and 
prosperous  posterity. 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX.  389 


APPENDIX. 


GENEPwAL  JOHN  H.  MORGAN 

Is  one,  and  the  oldest,  of  six  brothers^  all  of  whom,  save  one, 
have  been  active  and  useful  in  the  present  struggle  of  our  young 
Confederacy,  devoting  their  all  to  the  great  cause.  Calvin  C. 
Morgan  has  acted  as  an  agent  at  home  in  Kentucky  for  the  com- 
mand of  his  brother,  and  has  undoubtedly  done  as  much  good  in 
that  capacity  as  he  would  have  done  had  he  been  in  the  field.  His 
third  brother,  Colonel  Richard  Morgan,  is  the  adjutant-general  of 
the  junior  Hill,  and  has  been  with  that  gallant  officer  through  his 
whole  campaign.  The  fourth  brother,  Major  Charlton  H.  Morgan, 
is  at  present  in  his  brother's  command,  having  been  recently  trans- 
ferred from  the  army  of  the  Potomac.  When  the  present  war 
broke  out,  Charlton  Morgan  represented  the  United  States  govern- 
ment abroad.  He  immediately  resigned  his  position  and  came 
home  to  take  his  part  in  the  struggle,  and  was  the  first  member  of 
his  family  to  come  into  the  Confederate  States.  Tlie  fifth  brother. 
Lieutenant  Thomas  Morgan,  at  present  a  prisoner  at  ^'Camp 
Chase,"  Ohio,  was  one  of  the  first  youths  of  Lexington  to  shoulder 
his  musket  and  march  to  the  defence  of  Kentucky.  The  sixth 
brother  is  yet  too  young  to  bear  arms. 

General  Morgan,  as  were  all  of  his  brothers,  was  born  and  edu- 
cated near  the  city  of  Lexington,  in  Kentucky,  and  is  a  lineal  de- 
scendant of  Morgan  of  Revolutionary  fame. 

In  1846,  during  the  Mexican  war,  when  the  call  came  for  "  more 
'colunteers,^^  John  H.  Morgan,  then  scarcely  of  age,  raised  a  com- 
pany, and  was  just  upon  the  point  of  starting  when  the  news 
reached  the  States  that  a  treaty  of  Peace  had  been  concluded. 
"Well  do  the  survivors  of  that  company  remember  the  conduct  of 
their  captain  upon  the  disbanding  of  his  company.  Every  man 
of  the  company  (which  was  principally  composed  of  young  men 
dependent  upon  their  labor  for  support)  was  indemnified  for  the 
loss  of  hi3  time  during  the  period  of  recruiting.     'Twas  at  this 


390  APPENDIX. 

time  that  Morgan  gained  the  title  of  captain.  The  Kentuckians  of 
his  command  still  refuse  to  recognize  or  apply  any  other  title  to 
him  than  that  of  "  The  Captain." 

General  Morgan  is  not  a  "  West  Pointer,"  but  one  of  *ae  few 
men  who  was  born  to  commajid,  as  he  has  incontestably  proven. 
He  believes  that  it  is  his  destiny  to  fight  against  a  race  of  men 
whose  every  principle  is  so  utterly  repulsive  to  his  own  noble 
nature.  His  contempt  for  the  Yankee  character  is  great-  and 
natural,  and  his  daring  deeds  in  this  war  show  how  thoroughly  he 
understands  it. 

Some  time  after  the  Mexican  war,  he  purchased  an  establishment 
and  engnged  in  the  manufacture  of  jeans,  linseys,  aud  bagging  for 
the  Southern  market.  About  the  same  time  he  married  the  ac- 
complished Miss  Rebecca  Bruce  (whose  traitor  brothers  are  all 
against  us  in  this  war).  After  years  of  suffering  from  sickness, 
she  died  about  the  commencement  of  the  present  troubles.  After 
performing  the  last  sad  rites  to  his  departed  wife,  he  immediately 
and  secretly  collected  a  little  band  of  followers,  not  over  twenty- 
five  in  number,  and  left  the  country,  making  his  way  to  Green 
river,  where  he  reported  himself  to  the  Confederate  oflicer  in 
command  *'  ready  for  duty."  His  band  was  rapidly  increased  by 
the  arrival  of  exiles  from  Kentucky,  who  knew  well  the  worth  and 
valor  of  the  man  as  a  leader. 

His  command,  upon  reporting,  were  placed,  with  some  other 
cavalry,  upon  picket  duty  on  the  Green  river,  where  he  began  a 
series  of  bold  and  daring  exploits,  which  are  unequalled  for  their 
boldness  and  the  manner  of  their  execution. 

It  was  his  determination  when  he  left  his  home  in  Kentucky, 
should  his  command  ever  become  numerous  enough,  to  return  aud 
drive  out  the  crop-eared  Puritans,  who,  through  Kentucky's  gen- 
erosity, had  quite  ruined  his  native  State,  by  overrunning  it  and 
driving  her  sons  to  the  States  of  the  Southwest. 

A  little  incident,  showing  the  strategic  powers  of  Morgan,  is 
here  worthy  of  mention  :  •  An  order  was  issued  by  the  authorities 
of  Kentucky,  from  headquarters  at  Frankfort,  that  all  the  arms 
in  the  State  should  be  forthwith  forwarded  to  the  State  armory, 
there  to  be  inspected  and  repaired  for  the  use  of  the  ^^  State 
Guard,^''  who  were  to  maintain  what  the  Union  shriekers  termed 
Kentucky's  "  Armed  Neutrality."  General  Morgan,  then  cap- 
tain of  the  "Lexington  Pvifles,"  was  suspected  of  having  evil  in- 
tentions against  the  peace  and  quiet  of  "Uncle  Sam,"  or  rather 
that  "old  Hoosier,"  King  Abraham.    It  was,  however,  known  to 


APPENDIX.  391 

all  loyal  Kentuckians  that  he  was  "a  good  man  and  true;"  in  other 
words,  that  he  was  for  his  State  first,  last,  and  all  the  time.  Henco 
the  Lincolnites  kept  a  sharp  eye  on  the  guns  held  by  Morgan's 
company.  Morgnn  knew  that  they  had  determined  to  get  the 
arras  out  of  his  h^nds,  and  issued  the  order  mainly  for  that  pur- 
pose. And  he,  in  turn,  had  determined  that  they  should  not  have 
them  ;  so,  in  the  dead  of  night,  they  were  removed  some  dis- 
tance from  t^ie  city,  and  the  boxes,  in  which  they  were  to  have 
been  placed,  neatly  filled  with  bricks  instead,  and  marked  "  Guns 
from  Captain  Morgan,,  State  Armory,^  Franl-forty  Good  care 
was  taken  that  the  boxes  should  reach  the  depot  at  Lexington  jwsi 
too  late,,  and  there  they  lay  exposed  to  public  view.  The  Lincoln- 
ites received  the  boxes  with  un'^peakable  delight,  winking  and  blink- 
ing at  one  another,  supposing  that  they  had  fixed  Morgan  and  his 
Secesh  company,  and  flattering  tliemselves  that  they  had  for  once 
in  their  lives  defeated  a  man  who  had  always  been  as  a  thorn  in 
their  sides.  That  night  Captain  Morgan,  in  command  of  his  brave 
band,  passed  through  Lawrenceburg,  Ky.,  a  distance  of  twenty- 
five  miles  from  Lexington,  having  in  their  possession  eighty  fine 
rifies  belonging  to  the  Yankee  government. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  present  struggle.  General  Morgan 
was  possessed  of  great  wealth,  all  of  which  he  left  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemy  when  he  came  South.  He  has  ever  been  a  public 
spirited  gentleman,  and  dispensed  his  means  with  a  liberal  hand 
for  the  public  good.  There  are  many  who  can  testify  to  his  quiet 
manner  of  doing  good.  There  is  no  man  living  who  can  say  of 
John  H.  Morgan,  that  he  went  to  him  "  tired  and  hungry,  and  he 
fed  him  not ;  he  came  cold  and  naked,  and  he  clothed  him  not." 

General  Morgan  is  now  about  thirty-six  years  of  age,  and  in  the 
full  vigor  of  manhood.  He  is  about  six  feet  in  his  stockings,  as 
straight  as  an  Indian,  and  magnificently  proportioned  ;  light  curly 
hair,  small  gray  eyes,*  and  fair  complexion.  His  general  appeflr- 
ance  is  that  of  a  gentleman  of  leisure — his  carriage  exceedingly 
graceful  and  manly,  with  rather  an  inclination  to  be  fastidious  in 
his  dress.  His  modest,  unassuming  style  of  speech,  when  ad- 
dressed, at  once  assures  you  that  you  are  in  the  presence  of  an 
unpretending,  thorough-bred  Kentucky  gentleman.  Unlike  many 
other  of  the  great  men  of  war,  though  a  man  who  entertains  great 
respect  for  religion,  he  is  not  a  member  of  the  church.  His  deeds 
have  been  heralded  throughout  the  broad  limits  of  the  universe, 
and  his  name  will  be  cherished  wherever  the  "  Stars  and  Bars"  of 
his  beloved  Confederacv  wave. 


392  APPENDIX. 


MORGAN'S  OPEPwATIONS  IN"  INDIANA  AND  OHIO. 

Richmond,  Ya.,  Friday,  July  31,  1863. 

Messbs.  Editors  : — As  much  interest  has  been  manifested  in 
reference  to  the  recent  raid  of  General  Morgan,  I  have  tliought  it 
but  right  to  add  ray  "mite"  to  assist  in  appeasing  the  appetite  of 
the  pubhc,  who  are  eagerly  devouring  every  morsel  or  crumb  of 
news  coming  from  General  Morgan's  command.  Sincerely  sorry 
that  the  Federal  gunboats  cut  off  the  finishing  of  the  account,  I 
shall  at  once  commence. 

The  command  of  General  J.  H.  Morgan,  consisting  of  detach- 
ments from  two  brigades,  numbering  2,028  effective  men,  witli 
four  pieces  of  artillery — two  Parrots,  and  two  howitzers — left 
Sparta,  Tennessee,  on  the  27th  of  June,  crossed  the  Cumberland, 
near  Barkesville,  on  the  2d  of  July,  finished  crossing  at  daylight 
on  the  3d.  Means  of  transportation — canoes  and  dug-outs,  im- 
provised for  the  occasion.  Were  met  by  Colonel  Hobson's  cav- 
alry, estimated  at  6,000,  drove  them  back  to  Jamestown,  Ky., 
and  our  column  marched  on  through  Columbia,  at  which  point 
found  the  advance  of  Woolford's  celebrated  Kentucky  Cavalry, 
numbering  250  men,  dispersed  it,  killing  seven  and  wounding  fif- 
teen men.     Our  loss,  two  killed  and  two  wounded. 

Marched  on  to  Stockade,  at  Green  river,  on  the  4th.  Colonel 
Johnson,  commanding  the  second  brigade,  attacking  stockade, 
rifle-pits,  and  abattis  of  timber.  After  heavy  slaughter  on  both 
sides,  our  forces  withdrew  :  loss  about  60  killed  and  wounded  on 
each  side.  Of  Morgan's  command,  the  gallant  Colonel  Chenault 
fell,  pierced  through  the  head  with  a  Minnie  ball,  as  he  led  his 
men  in  a  charge  upon  the  rifle-pits.  The  lioo-hearted  Major 
Brent  also  poured  out  his  life-blood  upon  the  field.  Indeed,  this 
was  the  darkest  day  that  ever  shone  upon  our  command — 11 
commissioned  oflicers  were  killed  and  nine  wounded.  Moving  on 
to  Lebanon  on  the  5th,  we  attacked  the  town  (fortified),  and  after 
five  hours'  hard  fighting,  captured  the  place,  with  a  vast  amount 
of  stores,  483  prisoners,  one  24-pounder,  and  many  fine  horses. 
The  commandant  of  the  post  Avas  Colonel  Charles  Hanson,  brother 
to  the  lamented  Brigadier-general  Roger  Hanson,  who  fell  at 
Murfreesboro.     His  command,  raised  in  the  heart  of  the  Blue- 


APPENDIX.  393 

• 
grass  region,  containeil  brothers  and  other  near  relatives  to  our 
brave  boys;  notwithstanding  which,  when  the  gallant  patriot 
young  Lieutenant  Tom  Morgan,  a  brother  to  our  general,  and  idol 
of  the  command,  fell,  loud  and  deep  were  the  maledictions  that 
ascended  against  the  cowardly  cravens  for  seeking  shelter  in 
dwelling-houses,  and  the  question  was  raised  as  to  their  right  to 
receive  quarter.  The  enemy  lost  nine  killed  and  15  wounded; 
our  loss,  three  killed  and  six  wounded. 

Rapid  marches  brought  us  to  Brandensburg  on  the  7th,  where 
Captain  Sam  Taylor,  of  the  old  Rough  and  Ready  family,  had 
succeeded  in  capturing  two  fine  steamers.  From  eight  a.  m.  on  the 
8th  until  seven  a.  m.  on  the  9th,  was  consumed  in  fighting  back 
the  Federal  gunboats,  whipping  out  300  Home  Guard;^,  with  artil- 
lery, on  the  Indiana  shore,  and  crossing  the  command.  The  first 
was  accomplished  by  Captain  Byrne,  with  his  battery — two  Par- 
rots and  two  12-pound  howitzers;  the  second,  by  an  advance 
regiment,  capturing  the  guards,  and  securing  a  splendid  Parrot 
gun,  elegantly  rigged. 

9tii.— Marched  on  to  Corydon,  fighting  near  there  4,500  State 
miUtia,  and  capturing  3,400  of  them,  and  dispersing  the  remainder; 
then  moving  without  a  halt  through  Salisbury  and  Palmyra  to 
Salem,  at  which  point,  telegraphing  with  our  operator,  we  first 
learned  the  station  and  numbers  of  the  enemy  aroused  for  the 
hunt;  discovered  that  Indianapolis  was  funning  over  with  them; 
that  New  Albany  contained  10,000;  that  3,000  had  just  arrived 
at  Mitchell ;  and,  in  fact,  25,000  men  were  armed  and  ready  to 
meet  the  "bloody  invader." 

Remaining  at  Salem  only  long  enough  to  destroy  the  railroad 
bridge  and  track,  we  sent  a  scout  to  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi 
road,  near  Seymour,  to  burn  two  bridges,  a  depot,  and  destroy 
the  track  for  two  miles,  which  was  efi:ected  in  an  incredibly  short 
time.  Then  taking  the  road  to  Lexington,  after  riding  all  night, 
reached  that  point  at  daylight,  capturing  a  number  of  supplies, 
and  destroying,  during  the  night,  the  depot  and  track  at  Viennaj 
on  the  Jeftersonville  and  Indianapolis  railroad.  Leaving  Lexing- 
ton, passed  on  north  to  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  railroad,  near 
Vernon,  where,  finding  General  Manson,  with  a  heavy  force  of  in- 
fantry, we  skirmished  with  him  two  hours  as  a  feint,  while  the 
main  command  moved  round  the  town  to  Dupont,  where  squads 
were  sent  out  to  cut  the  roads  between  Vernon  and  Seymour  on 
the  west,. and  Madison  on  the  south,  and  Vernon  and  Columbus 
on  the  north.     Is ot  much  brighter  were  the  bonfires  and  illumin- 

17* 


394  APPENDIX. 

atioDS  in  the  celebration  of  tlje  Vicksburg  victory  by  the  Yankees, 
than  our  counter-illuminations  around  Vernon.  Many  old  ladiea 
were  aroused  from  their  slumbers  to  rejoice  over  the  brilliant  vic- 
tories recently  achieved.  Surmises  were  various  and  many.  One 
old  lady  knew  that  the  city  of  Richmond  was  on  fire ;  another 
that  Jeff.  Davis  had  been  killed;  a  third  that  the  army  of  Vir- 
ginia was  used  up.  Not  one  knew  that  General  John  H,  Morgan 
was  within  two  hundred  miles  of  them. 

Daylight  brought  the  news,  and  then,  for  mile's,  houses  were 
found  vacant.  Loaves  of  bread  and  buckets  of  pure  fresh  water, 
with  an  occasional  sprinkle  of  wines,  liquors,  and  sweetmeats, 
were  thrust  upon  us.  Terror  was  depicted  on  every  countenance, 
until  a  brief  conversation  assured  them  that  we  were  not  warring 
upon  women  and  children.  Then  their  natural  effrontery  would 
return,  and  their  vials  of  uncorked  wrath  would  pour  upon  us 
streams  as  muddy  as  if  emanating  from  old  Abe's  brain. 

From  Vernon  we  proceeded  to  Versailles,  capturing  500  militia 
there,  and  gathering  on  the  road.  Near  this  point,  Captain  P.,  a 
Presbyterian  chaplain  and  former  line-officer  in  one  of  our  regi- 
ments, actuated  by  a  laudable  desire  to  change  steeds,  moved 
ahead,  flanking  the  advance,  and  running  upon  a  full  company  of 
State  militia.  Imitating  his  commander's  demeanor,  he  boldly 
rode  up  to  the  company  ^nd  inquired  for  the  captain.  Being  in- 
formed that  there  was  a  dispute  as  to  who  should  lead  them,  he 
volunteered  his  services,  expatiating  largely  upon  the  part  he  had 
played  as  an  Indiana  captain  at  Shiloh,  and  was  soon  elected  to 
lead  the  valiant  Hoosiers  against  the  "  invading  rebs."  Twenty 
minutes  spent  in  drilling  inspired  complete  confidence  ;  and  when 
the  advance  guard  of  Morgan's  band  had  passed  without  Captain 
P.  permitting  the  Hoosiers  to  fire,  he  ordered  them  into  the  road  ^ 
and  surrendered  them  to  our  command.  Crestfallen,  indeed, 
were  the  Yanks ;  but  General  Morgan  treated  them  kindly,  re- 
turning to  them  their  guns,  advised  them  to  go  home  and  not 
come  hunting  such  game  again,  as  they  had  every  thing  to  lose 
and  nothing  to  gain  by  it. 

From  Versailles  we  moved  without  interruption  across  to  Har- 
rison, Ohio,  destroying  the  track  and  burning  small  bi"Wges  on  the 
Lawrenceburg  and  Indianapolis  railroad.  At  Harrison  we  burned 
a  fine  bridge.  Leaving  Harrison  at  dusk,  with  noi>eless  tread  we 
moved  around  Cincinnati,  passing  between  that  city  and  Hamil- 
ton, destroying  the  railroad;  and  a  scout  running  the  Federal 
pickets  into  the  city,  the  whole  command  marched  within  seven 


APPENDIX.  395 

miles  of  it.  Daylight  of  the  14th  found  us  eighteen  miles  east  of 
Cincinnati ;  sunset  had  left  us  twenty-two  miles  west,  hut  the  cir- 
cuitous route  we  travelled  was  not  less  than  one  hundred  miles. 
During  this  night's  march  many  of  our  men,  from  excessive  fa- 
tigue, were  riding  along  fast  asleep.  Indeed,  hundreds  would 
have  heen  left  asleep  on  the  road  had  it  not  been  for  the  untiring 
vigilance  of  our  gallant  general.  Up  and  down  the  line  he  rode, 
laughing  with  this  one,  joking  with  that,  assuming  a  fierce  de- 
meanor with  another,  and  so  on.  None  were  left,  and  when  we 
reached  the  railroad  near  Camp  Dennison,  few  persons  would 
have  guessed  the  fatigue  the  men  had  undergone  from  their  fresh 
and  rosy  appearance.  A  fight  was  imminent.  Madam  Rumor 
had  been  whispering  that  old  Granny  Burnside  would  pay  us  a 
visit  that  morning,  but  instead  of  arriving,  he  sent  us  a  train  of 
cars  with  several  of  his  officers,  who  were  kindly  received,  and  in 
honor  of  their  arrival  a  grand  fire  was  made  of  the  cars,  &c. 

Nothing  of  special  importance  occurred  after  passing  Dennison, 
except  at  Camp  Siiady  the  destruction  of  seventy-five  army  wagons 
and  a  vast  amount  of  forage :  until  the  morning  of  the  19th  our 
command  had  heavy  marches  over  bad  roads,  making  detours, 
threatening  both  Chillicothe  and  Hillsboro  on  the  north,  and 
Gallipolis  on  the  South.  Daily  were  we  delayed  by  the  annoying 
cry  of  "  Axes  to  the  front,"  a  cry  that  warned  us  of  buskwhackers, 
ambuscades,  and  blockaded  roads.  From  the  14:th  to  the  19th 
every  hillside  contained  an  enemy,  and  every  ravine  a  blockade. 
Dispirited  and  worn  down,  we  reached  the  river  at  three  a.  m.,  on 
the  19th,  at  a  ford  above  Pomeroy,  I  think,  called  Portland.  At 
four,  two  companies  were  thrown  across  the  river,  and  were  in- 
stantly opened  upon  by  the  enemy  ;  a  scout  of  three  hundred  men 
were  sent  down  the  river  half  a  mile,  who  reported  back  that 
they  had  found  a  small  force  behind  rifle-pita,  and  asked  permis- 
sion of  General  Morgan  to  charge.  He  assented,  and  by  five  he 
was  notified  that  Colonel  Smith  had  successfully  charged  the  pits, 
capturing  150  prisoners.  Another  courier  arriving  about  the 
same  tim?,  reported  that  a  gunboat  had  approaciifed  near  our  bat- 
tery, and,  on  being  fired  upon,  had  retired  precipitatel}'. 

General  4forgan  finding  both  of  these  reports  correct,  and  be- 
lieving that  he  had  sufficient  time  to  cross  the  coumiand,  was  us- 
ing every  exertion  to  accomplish  the  task,  when  simultaneously 
could  be  heard  the  discharge  of  artillery  from  down  the  river,  a 
heavy  drumming  sound  of  small-arms  in  the  rear  and  right;  from 
the  banks  of  the  river  came  up  three  black  columns  of  infantry, 


396  APPENDIX. 

firing  npon  our  men,  who  were  in  close  column,  preparing  to 
cross.  Seeing  that  the  enemy  had  every  advantage  of  position, 
and  overwhelming  force  of  infantry  and  cavalry,  and  that  we 
were  becoming  completely  environed  in  the  meshes  of  the  net  set 
for  us,  the  command  was  ordered  to  move  up  the  river,  double 
quick.  The  gallant  field,  staff,  and  line  officers  acted  with  decis- 
ion and  promptitude,  and  the  command  was  moved  rapidly  off  the 
field,  leaving  three  companies  of  dismounted  men,  and  perhaps 
200  sick  and  wounded  men,  in  the  enemy's  possession.  Our  ar- 
tillery was  doubtless  captured  at  the  river,  as  two  horses  had  been 
killed  in  one  place,  and  one  in  each  of  two  others,  and  the  mount- 
ain path,  from  which  we  made  our  exit,  was  too  precipitous  to 
convey  them  over.  Two  lieutenants  and  five  privates  were  known 
to  have  been  killed  on  our  side. 

After  leaving  the  river  at  Portland,  the  command  was  marched 
to  Belleville,  some  fourteen  miles,  and  commenced  fording,  or 
rather  swimming,  at  that  point.  330  men  had  effected  a  crossing, 
when  again  the  enemy's  gunboats  were  upon  us — the  iron-clad 
and  two  transports.  Again  we  moved  up  the  river.  The  second 
brigade,  commanded  by  Colonel  Adam  Johnson,  was  ordered  to 
cross,  guides  having  represented  the  stream  as  fordable.  In 
dashed  the  colonel,  closely  followed  by  Lieutenant  Woodson, 
Captain  Paine,  of  Texas,  young  Rogers,  of  Tgxas,  Captain  Mc- 
Clain,  A.  C.  S.,  second  brigade,  and  myself.  The  colonel's  noble 
mare  falters,  strikes  out  again,  and  boldly  makes  the  shore. 
Woodson  follows.  My  poor  mare,  being  too  weak  to  carry  me, 
turned  over  and  commenced  going  down  ;  incumbered  by  clothes, 
sabre,  and  pistols,  I  made  but  poor  progress  in  the  turbid  stream, 
but  the  recollection  of  home,  of  a  bright-eyed  maiden  in  the  sunny 
south,  the  pressing  need  of  soldiers,  and  an  inherent  love  of  life, ' 
actuated  me  to  continue  swimming.  Behind  me  I  heard  the 
piercing  call  of  young  Rogers  for  help ;  on  my  right.  Captain 
Helm  was  appealing  to  me  for  aid ;  and  in  the  rear,  my  friend, 
Captain  McClain  was  sinking.  Gradually  the  gunboat  was  near- 
ing  me.  Should  I  be  able  to  hold  up  until  it  came;  and  would  I 
then  be  saved  to  again  undergo  the  horrors  of  a  Federal  bastile? 
But  I  hear  something  behind  me  snorting!"  I  feel  it  passing! 
Thank  God  I  am  saved !  A  riderless  horse  dashes  by ;  I  grasp 
his  tail !  onward  he  bears  me,  and  the  shore  is  reached.  Colonel 
Johnson,  on  reaching  the  shore,  seizes  upon  a  ten-inch  piece  of 
board,  jumps  into  a  leaky  skiff,  and  starts  back  to  aid  the  drown- 
ing.   He  reaches  Captain  Helm,  but  Captain  McOlain  and  young 


APPENDIX.  397 

Rogers  are  gone!  Yes,  Captaia  McClain,  the  true  gentleman, 
fjiitliful  soldier,  and  pleasant  companion,  has  been  buried  in  the 
depths  of  the  Ohio.  We  sadly  miss  him  at  quarters  and  in  the 
field.  His  genial  smile  and  merry  laughter  will  no  longer  ring 
ui)on  the  ear.  But  from  his  manly  piety  and  goodness  of  heart, 
the  angels  of  heaven  will  never  mark  him  as  an  absentee.  May 
the  memory  of  his  many  virtues  serve  as  a  beacon-light  to  guide 
us  all  to  the  same  heavenly  abode  where  he  is  now  stationed. 

Two  men  were  drowned  in  the  crossing.  The  gunboat  and 
transports  cutting  us  off  again,  General  Morgan  fell  back  again, 
and  just  as  daylight  was  disappearing,  the  rear  of  his  command 
was  leaving  the  river.  Sad  and  dispirited,  we  impressed  guides, 
collected  together  360  men  who  had  crossed — many  without  arras, 
having  lost  them  in  the  river — and  marched  out  towards  Claysville. 
But  before  leaving  the  river,  I  will  briefly  recapitulate  and  sum 
up  in  short  order  the -damage  to  the  enemy  in  this  raid,  and  the 
sufferings  through  which  General  Morgan's  men  passed.  On  first 
crossing  the  Cumberland,  we  detached  two  companies — one  to 
operate  on  the  Louisville  and  Nashville  railroad,  the  other  to  op- 
erate between  Crab  Orchard  and  Somerset,  Kentucky.  The  first 
captured  two  trains,  and  returned  to  Tennessee.  The  second  cap- 
tured thirty-five  wagons,  and  also  returned.  "We  then  detached 
100  men  at  Springfield,  who  marched  to  Frankfort  and  destroyed 
a  train  and  the  railroad  near  that  point.  We  also  captured  a 
train,  with  a  number  of  officers,  on  the  Louisville  and  Nashville 
railroad,  near  Shepherd?ville — sent  a  detachment  around  Louis- 
ville, who  captured  a  number  of  army  supplies,  and  effected  a 
crossing  by  capturing  a  steamer  between  Louisville  and  Cincin- 
nati, and  rejoined  us  in  Indiana. 

We  paroled,  up  to  the  10th,  near  6,000  Federals,  they  obliga- 
ting themselves  not  to  take  up  arms  during  the  war.  We  de- 
stroyed thirty-four  important  bridges,  destroying  the  track  in 
sixty  different  places.  Our  loss  was  by  no  means  light — 28  com- 
missioned oflicers  killed,  35  wounded,  and  250  men  killed,  wound- 
ed, and  captured.  By  the  Federal  accounts,  we  killed  more  than 
200,  wounded  at  least  350,  and  captured,  as  above  stated,  near 
6.000. 

The  damage  to  railroads,  steamboats,  and  bridges,  added  to  the 
destruction  of  public  stores  and  depots,  cannot  fall  far  short  of 
$10,000,000.  We  captured  three  pieces  of  artillery,  and  one  24- 
pounder  at  Lebanon,  which  we  destroyed ;  one,  a  Parrott  3-inch 
gun,  at  Brandenburg,  and  a  12-pounder  at  Portland.     These  guns 


398  APPENDIX. 

may  have  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hands  again ;  I  do  not  know  if 
it  be  so,  but  fear  they  have. 

After  crossing  into  Indiana,  the  inhabitants  fled  in  every  direc- 
tion, women  and  children  begging  us  to  spare  tbeir  lives,  and 
amazingly  surprised  to  find  we  were  humans.  The  Copperheads 
and  Butternuts  were  always  in  the  front  opposing  us.  Occasion- 
ally we  would  meet  with  a  pure  Southron,  generally  persons  ban- 
ished from  the  border  States.  In  Indiana  one  recruit  was  ob- 
tained, a  boy  fourteen  years  old,  who  came  as  an  orderly.  Our 
command  was  bountifully  fed,  and  I  think  the  people  of  Indiana 
and  Ohio  are  anxious  for  peace;  and  could  the  idea  of  their  abil- 
ity to  conquer  us  once  be  gotten  rid  of,  they  would  clamor  for  an 
immediate  recognition.  Every  town  was  illuminated,  and  the 
people  everywhere  rejoicing  over  the  downfall  of  Vicksburg. 

Crops  of  wheat  and  oats  are  very  good,  but  corn  very  poor, 
indeed. 

After  leaving  the  Ohio  at  Belleville,  on  the  night  of  the  19th, 
we  marched  to  near  Elizabethtown,  in  Wirt  county,  from  there  to 
Steer  creek,  and  across  the  mountains  to  Sutton;  from  Sutton, 
on  the  Gauley  Bridge  road,  to  Birch  creek,  crossing  Gauley  at 
the  mouth  of  Cranberry,  and  thence  into  tlie  Greenbrier  Country, 
crossing  Cold  mountain,  passing  a  heavy  blockaded  road;  tired 
steeds  prevented  rapid  marches,  and  six  days  were  consumed  ere 
we  reached  Lewisburg,  near  which  we  left  Colonel  Grigsby,  with 
a  detachment,  which  then  numbered  about  475  men.  From  the 
crossing  of  the  Ohio  until  our  entrance  into  Greenbrier,  our  men 
lived  on  beef  alone,  without  salt,  and  no  bread.  Yet  their  only 
wish  seemed  to  be  for  the  safety  of  General  Morgan  and  the  com- 
mand. 

To  the  kind  officers,  soldiers,  and  citizens  whom  we  have  met 
upon  our  journey,  since  reaching  the  Old  Dominion,  in  behalf  of 
our  command,  we  tender  them  our  undying  regard,  and  assure 
them,  if  unbounded  success  has  not  fallen  to  our  lot  this  time,  that 
we  are  more  fully  determined  to  strive  for  our  country  and  cause 
than  ever. 

I  have  the  honor  to  remain  your  obedient  servant, 

S.  P.  CUNNINGHAM, 
A.  A.  A.  G.  Morgan's  Cavalry  Division. 


APPENDIX. 


/ 


GENERAL  MOPwGAN'S  ESCAPE. 

General  Morgan  made  his  daring  escape  from  the  Ohio  Peni- 
tentiary, generally  considered  one  of  the  strongest  prisons  in  the 
country,  on  the  night  of  ISTovember  27th, 

The  bedsteads  of  the  prisoners  were  small  iron  stools,  fcistened 
to  the  wall  with  hinges.  They  could  be  hooked  up  or  allowed  to 
stand  on  the  floor;  and  to  prevent  any  suspicion,  for  several  days 
before  any  work  was  attempted,  they  made  it  a  habit  to  let  them 
down  and  sit  at  their  doors  and  read.  Captain  Hines  superintend- 
ed the  work,  while*  General  Morgan  kept  watch  to  divert  the  at- 
tention of  the  sentinel,  whose  duty  it  was  to  come  round  during 
the  day  and  observe  if  any  thing  was  going  on.  One  day  this  fel- 
low came  in  while  Hokersmith  was  down  under  the  floor  boring 
away,  and  missing  him  said,  "  Where  is  Hokersmith  V  The  gen- 
eral replied,  "-He  is  in  my  room,  sick,"  and  immediately  pulled  a 
document  out  of  his  pocket  and  said  to  him :  "  Here  is  a  memorial 
I  have  drawn  up  to  forward  to  the  government  at  Washington; 
what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

The  fellow,  who  perhaps  could  not  read,  being  highly  flattered 
at  the  general's  condescension,  took  it  and  very  gravely  looked  at 
it  for  several  moments  before  he  vouchsafed  any  reply.  Then, 
handing  it  back,  he  expressed  himself  highly  pleased  with  it.  In 
the  mean  time,  Hokersmith  had  been  signalled  and  came  up,  pro- 
fessing to  feel  "  very  unwell."  This  sentinel  was  the  most  difficult 
and  dangerous  obstacle  in  their  progress,  "because  there  was  no 
telling  at  what  time  he  would  enter  during  the  day,  and  at  night 
he  came  regularly  every  two  hours  to  each  cell,  and  inserted  a 
light  through  the  bars  of  their  door,  to  see  that  they  were  quietly 
sleeping;  and  frequently  after  he  had  completed  his  rounds  he 
would  slip  back  in  the  dark  with  a  pair  of  india-rubber  shoes  on, 
to  listen  at  their  cells  if  any  thing  was  going  on.  The  general  says 
that  he  would  almost  invariably  know  of  his  presence  by  a  certain 
magnetic  shudder  which  it  would  produce  ;  but  for  fear  that  this 
acute  sensibility  might  sometimes  fail  him,  he  broke  up  small  parti- 
cles of  coal  every  morning,  and  sprinkled  them  before  the  cell  door, 
which  would  always  announce  his  coming. 


4:00  APPENDIX. 

Every  thing  was  now  ready  to  begin  the  work;  so  about  the 
latter  part  of  October  they  began  to  bore.  All  were  busy — one 
making  a  rope-ladder  by  .tearing  and  twisting  up  strips  of  bedtick, 
another  making  bowie-knives,  and  another  twisting  up  towels. 
They  labored  perseveringly  for  several  days,  and  after  boring 
through  nine  inches  of  cement  and  nine  thicknesses  of  brick  placed 
edgewise,  they  began  to  wonder  when  they  should  reach  the  soft 
earth.  Suddenly  a  brick  fell  through.  What  could  this  mean  ? 
What  infernal  chamber  had  they  reached?  It  was  immediately 
entered,  and,  to  their  astonishment  and  joy,  it  proved  to  be  an  air- 
chamber  extending  the  whole  length  of  the  row  of  cells.  Here 
was  an  unexpected  interposition  in  their  favor.  Hitherto  they 
had  been  obliged  to  conceal  their  rubbish  in  their  bedticks,  each 
day  burning  a  proportionate  quantity  of  straw  ;  now  they  had 
room  enough  for  all  they  could  dig.  They  at  once  commenced  to 
tunnel  at  right  angles  with  this  air-chamber,  to  get  through  the 
foundation ;  and  day  after  day  they  bored,  day  after  day  the  blocks 
of  granite  were  removed,  and  still  the  work  before  them  seemed 
interminable. 

After  23  days  of  unremitting  labor,  and  getting  through  a  gran- 
ite wall  of  six  feet  in  thickness,  they  reached  the  soil.  They  tun- 
nelled up  for  some  distance,  and  light  began  to  shine.  How  glo- 
rious was  that  light!  It  announced  the  fulfilment  of  their  labors, 
and  if  Providence  would  only  continue  its  favor,  they  would  soon 
be  free.  This  was  the  morning  of  the  26th  day  of  November,. 
1863.  The  next  night,  at--twelve  o'clock,  was  determined  on  as 
the  hour  at  which  they  would  attempt  their  liberty.  Each  mo- 
ment that  intervened  was  fihed  with  dreadful  anxiety  and  suspense, 
and  each  time  the  guard  entered  increased  their  apprehensions. 
The  general  says  he  had  prayed  for  rain,  but  the  morning  of  the 
27th  dawned  bright  and  beautiful.  The  evening  came,  and  clouds 
began  to  gather !  How  they  prayed  for  them  to  increase !  If  rain 
should  only  begin,  their  chances  of  detection  would  be  greatly 
lessened.  While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  their  minds, 
the  keeper  entered  with  a  letter  for  General  Morgan.  He  opened 
it,  and  what  was  his  surprise,  and  I  may  say  wonder,  to  find  it  from 
a  prior  Irish  woman  of  his  acquaintance  in  Kentucky,  commencing, 
''My  dear  ginral,  I  feel  certain  you  are  going  to  try  to  get  out  of 
prison,  but  for  your  sake  don't  you  try  it,  my  dear  ginral.  You 
will  only  be  taken  prisoner  agin,  and  made  to  suffer  more  than 
you  do  now." 

Tiie  letter  then  went  on  to  speak  of  his  kindness  to  the  poor 


APPENDIX.  401 

when  he  lived  at  Lexington,  and  concluded  by  again  exhorting 
him  to  trust  in  God  and  wait  his  time.  What  could  this  mean? 
No  human  being  on  the  outside  had  been  informed  of  his  intention 
to  escape,  and  yet,  just  as  all  things  were  ready  for  him  to  make 
the  attempt,  here  comes  a  letter  from  Winchester,  Ky.,  advising 
}»im  not  to  "try  it."  This  letter  had  passed  through  the  examin- 
ing office  of  General  Mason,  and  then  through  the  hands  of  the 
flower  officials.  What  if  it  should  excite  their  suspicion  and  cause 
them  to  exercise  an  increased  vigilance?  The  situation,  however, 
was  desperate.  Tiieir  fate  could  not  be  much  worse,  and  they 
resolved  to  go.  Nothing  now  remained  to  be  done  but  for  the 
General  and  Colonel  Dick  Morgan  to  change  cells.  The  hour  ap- 
proached for  them  to  be  locked  up.  They  changed  coats,  and  each 
stood  at  the  other's  cell  door  with  his  back  exposed,  and  pretend- 
ed to  be  engaged  in  making  up  their  beds.  As  the  turnkey  enter- 
ed they  "turned  in"  and  pulled  their  doors  shut. 

Six,  eight,  ten  o'clock  came.  How  each  pulse  throbbed  as  they 
quietly  awaited  the  approach  of  twelve!  It  came — the  sentinel 
passed  his  round — all  well.  After  waiting  a  few  moments  to  see 
if  he  intended  to  slip  back,  the  signal  was  given— all  quietly  slipped 
down  into  the  air-chamber,  first  stuffing  their  shirts  and  placing 
them  in  bed  as  they  were  accustomed  to  lie.  As  they  moved 
quietly  along  through  the  dark  recess  to  the  terminus  where  they 
were  to  emerge  from  the  earth,  the  general  prepared  to  light  a 
match.  As  the  lurid  glare  fell  upon  their  countenances  a  scene 
was  presented  which  can  never  be  forgotten.  There  were  crouch- 
ed seven  brave  men  who  had  resolved  to  be  free.  They  were 
armed  with  bowie-knives  made  out  of  case-knives.  Life,  in  their 
condition,  was  scarcely  to  be  desired,  and  the  moment  for  the  des- 
perate chance  had  arrived.  Suppose,  as  they  emerged  from  the 
ground,  the  dog  should  give  the  alarm— they  could  but  die. 

But  a  few  moments  were  spent  in  this  kind  of  apprehension. 
The  hour  arrived,  and  yet  they  came.  Fortunately — providential- 
ly— the  night  had  suddenly  grown  dark  and  rainy;  the  dogs  had 
retired  to  their  kennels,  and  the  sentinels  had  taken  refuge  under 
shelter.  The  inner  wall,  by  the  aid  of  the  rope-ladder,  was  soon 
scaled,  and  now  the  outer  one  had  to  be  attempted.  Cai)tain  Tay- 
lor (who,  by  the  way,  is  a  nephew  of  old  Zack,)  being  a  very  ac- 
tive man,  by  the  assistance  of  his  comrades  reached  the  top  of  the 
gate,  and  was  enabled  to  get  the  rope  over  the  wall.  When  the 
top  was  gained  they  found  a  rope  extending  all  around,  which  the 
general  immediately  cut,  as  he  suspected  it  might  lead  into  the 


402  APPENDIX. 

warden's  room.  This  turned  out  to  be  correct.  They  then  enter- 
ed the  sentry-box  on  the  wall  and  changed  their  clothes,  and  let 
themselves  down  tlie  wall.  In  sliding  down,  the  general  skinned 
his  hand  very  badly,  and  all  were  more  or  less  bruised.  Once 
down,  they  separated,  Taylor  and  Shelton  going  one  way,  Hoker- 
smith,  Bennett,  and  McGee  another,  and  General  Morgan  and  Cap- 
tain Hines  proceeded  immediately  towards  the  depot. 

The  general  had,  by  paying  $15  in  gold,  succeeded  in  obtaining 
a  paper  which  informed  him  of  the  schedule  time  of  the  different 
roads.  The  clock  struck  one,  and  he  knew  that  by  Imrrying  he 
could  reach  the  down-train  for  Cincinnati.  He  got  there  just  as 
the  train  was  moving  off.  He  at  once  looked  on  to  see  if  there 
were  any  soldiers  on  board,  and  espying  a  Union  officer,  he  boldly 
walked  up  and  took  a  seat  beside  him.  He  remarked  to  him  that 
as  the  night  was  damp  and  chilly,  perhaps  he  would  join  him  in  a 
drink.  He  did  so,  and  the  party  soon  became  agreeable  to  each 
other.  The  cars,  in  crossing  the  Sciota,  have  to  pass  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  Penitentiary.  As  they  passed,  the  officer  remark- 
ed, "There's  the  hotel  at  which  Morgan  and  his  oncers  are  spend- 
ing their  leisure."  "  Yes,"  replied  the  general,  "and  I  sincerely 
hope  he  will  make  up  his  mind  to  board  there  during  the  balance 
of  the  war,  for  he  is  a  great  nuisance."  When  the  train  reached 
Zenia,  it  was  detained  by  some  accident  more  than  an  hour.  Im- 
agine his  anxiety  as  soldier  after  soldier  would  pass  through  the 
train,  for  fear  that  when  the  sentinel  passed  his  round  at  2  o'clock 
their  absence  might  be  discovered. 

The  train  was  due  in  Cincinnati  at  6  o'clock.  This  was  the  hour 
in  which  they  were  turned  out  of  their  cells,  and  of  course  their 
escape  would  be  then  discovered.  In  a  few  moments  after  it  would 
be  known  all  over  the  country.  The  train,  having  been  detained 
at  Zenia,  was  running  very  rapidly  to  make  up  the  time.  It  was 
already  past  six  o'clock.  .  The  general  said  to  Captain  Hines,  "It 
is  after  six;  if  we  go  to  the  depot  we  are  dead  men.  'Now  or 
never."  They  went  to  the  rear  and  put  on  the  brakes.  "Jump, 
Hines!"  Off  he  went,  and  fell  heels  over  head  in  the  mud.  An- 
other severe  turn  of  the  brakes,  and  the  general  jumped.  He  was 
more  successful,  and  lighted  on  his  feet.  There  were  some  soldiers 
near,  who  remarked,  "What  in  the  h — 1  do  you  mean  by  jump- 
ing off  the  cars  here?"  The  general  replied,  "What  in  the  h — 1 
is  the  use  of  my  going  into  town  when  I  live  here;  and,  besides, 
what  business  fs  it  of  yours?" 

They  went  immediately  to  the  river.     They  found  a  skiff,  but 


APPENDIX.  403 

no  oars.  Soon  a  little  boy  came  over,  and  appeared  to  be  wait- 
ing, "  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?"  said  the  general.  "  I  am  wait- 
ing for  my  load."  "  What  is  the  price  of  a  load?"  "Two  dol- 
lars." "Well,  as  we  are  tired  and  hungry,  we'll  give  you  the  two 
dollars,  and  you  can  put   us   over."      So   over   he   took   them. 

"Where  does  ^[iss  live?"     "Just  a  short  distance  from 

here."  "Will  you  show  nie  her  house?"  "Yes,  sir."  The  house 
was  reached,  a  fine  breakfast  was  soon  obtained,  money  and  a 
horse  furnished,  a  good  woman's  prayer  bestowed,  and  off  he  went. 
From  there,  forward  through  Kentucky,  everybody  vied  with  each 
other  as  to  who  should  show  him  the  most  attention — even  to  the 
negroes ;  and  young  ladies  of  refinement  begged  the  honor  to  cook 
his  meals. 

Ue  remained  in  Kentucky  some  days,  feeling  perfectly  safe,  and 
sending  into  Louisville  for  many  little  things  he  wanted.  Went 
to  Bardstowu,  and  found  a  Federal  regiment  had  just  arrived  there 
looking  for  him.  Remained  here  and  about  for  three  or  four  days, 
and  then  struck  out  for  Dixie,  sometimes  disguising  himself  as  a 
government  cattle  contractor,  and  buying  a  large  lot  of  cattle,  at 
other  times  a  quartermaster,  until  he  got  to  the  Tennessee  river. 
Here  he  found  all  means  of  transportation  destroyed,  and  the  bank 
strongly  guarded,  but  with  the  assistance  of  about  thirty  others, 
who  had  recognized  him  and  joined  him  in  spite  of  his  remon- 
strances, he  succeeded  in  making  a  raft,  and  he  and  Captain  Hines 
crossed  over.  His  escort,  with  heroic  self-sacrifice,  refused  to 
cross  until  he  was  safely  over.  He  then  hired  a  negro  to  get  his 
horse  over,  paying  him  $20  for  it.  The  river  was  so  high  that 
the  horse  came  near  drowning,  and  after  more  than  one  hour's 
struggling  with  the  stream,  was  pulled  out  so  e3;liausted  as  scarce- 
ly to  be  able  to  stand. 

The  general  threw  a  blanket  on  him  and  commenced  to  walk 
him,  when  suddenly,  he  says,  he  was  seized  with  a  presentiment 
that  he  would  be  attacked,  and  remarking  to  Captain  Hines,  "We 
will  be  attacked  in  twenty  minutes,"  commenced  saddling  his 
horse.  He  had  hardly  tied  his  girth,  when  ''bang,  bang,"  went 
the  Minie  balls.  He  bounced  his  horse,  and  the  noble  animal,  ap- 
pearing to  be  inspired  with  new  vigor,  bounded  off  like  a  deer  up 
the  mountain.  The  last  he  saw  of  liis  poor  fellows  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  they  were  disappearing  up  the  river-bank,  fired  upon  by 
a  whole  regiment  of  Yankees.  By  this  time  it  was  dark,  and  also 
raining.  He  knew  that  a  perfect  cordon  of  pickets  would  surround 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  if  he  remained  there  until  morning, 


404  APPENDIX. 

he  would  be  lost.  So  he  determined  to  run  the  gauntlet  at  once, 
and  commenced  to  descend.  As  he  neared  the  foot,  leading  his 
horse,  he  came  almost  in  personal  contact  with  a  picket.  Ilis  first 
impulse  was  to  kill  him,  but  finding  him  asleep,  he  determined  to 
let  him  sleep  on.  He  made  his  way  to  the  house  of  a  Union  man 
that  he  knew  lived  near  there,  and  went  up  and  passed  himself  oil 
as  Captain  Quartermaster  of  Hunt's  regiment,  who  was  on  his  way 
to  Athens,  Tenn.,  tcr  procure  supplies  of  sugar  and  coffee  for  the 
Union  people  of  the  country.  The  lady,  who  appeared  to  be 
asleep  while  tliis  interview  was  taking  place  with  her  husband, 
at  the  mention  of  sugar  and  coffee,  jumped  out  of  bed  in  her  night 
clothes,  and  said,  "Thank  God  for  that,  for  we  ain't  seen  any  rale 
coffee  up  here  for  God  knows  how  long!"  She  was  so  delighted 
at  the  prospect,  that  she  made  up  a  fire  and  cooked  them  a  supper. 
Supper  being  over,  the  general  remarked  that  he  understood  some 
rebels  had  "tried  to  cross  the  river  this  afternoon."  "Yes,"  said 
the  woman,  "but  our  men  killed  some  un  um,  and  driv  the  rest 
back."  "Now,"  says  the  general,  "I  know  that,  but  didn't  some 
of  them  get  over  ?"  "  Yes,"  was  her  reply,  "  but  they  are  on  the 
mountain,  and  can't  get  down  without  being  killed,  as  every  road 
is  stopped  up."  He  then  said  to  her:  "It  is  very  important  for 
me  to  get  to  Athens  by  to-morrow  night,  or  I  may  lose  that  sugar 
and  coffee,  and  I  am  afraid  to  go  down  any  of  these  roads,  for  fear 
my  own  men  will  kill  me." 

The  fear  of  losing  that  sugar  and  coffee  brought  her  again  to  an 
accommodating  mood,  and  she  replied,  "  Why,  Paul,  can't  you 
show  the  captain  through  our  farm,  that  road  down  by  the  field  ?" 
The  general  says,  "  Of  course,  Paul,  you  can  do  it,  and  as  the  niglit 
is  very  cold,  1  will  give  you  $10  (in  gold)  to  help  you  along." 
The  gold,  and  the  prospect  of  sugar  and  coffee,  were  too  much 
for  any  poor  man's  nerves,  and  he  yielded,  and  getting  on  a  horse, 
he  took  them  seven  miles  to  the  big  road. 

From  this  time  forward  he  had  a  series  of  adventures  and  escapes, 
all  very  wonderful,  until  he  got  near  another  river  in  Tennessee, 
when  he  resolved  to  go  up  to  a  house  and  find  the  way.  Hines  went 
to  the  h(mse,  while  the  general  stood  in  the  road.  Hearing  a  body 
of  cavalry  come  dashing  up  behind  him,  he  quietly  slipped  to  one 
side  of  the  road  and  it  passed  by  without  observing  him.  They 
went  travelling  after  Hines,  and,  poor  fellow,  he  has  not  been 
heard  of  since.  How  sad  to  think  he  should  be  either  captured 
or  killed,  after  so  many  brave  efforts,  not  only  in  his  own  behalf, 
but  also  in  that  of  the  general,  for  the  general  says  that  it  is  ow- 


APPENDIX.  405 

* 
ing  chiefly  to  Hines's  enterprise  aud  skill  that  they  made  their  es- 
cape. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  river  referred  to  above,  lie  tried  to  get 
over,  intending  to  stop  that  night  with  a  good  Southern  man 
on  the  other  side.  He  could  not  get  over,  and  had  to  stop  at  the 
house  of  a  Union  man.  The  next  morning  he  went  to  the  house 
that  he  had  sought  the  night  previous,  and  found  the  track  of  the 
Yankees  scarcely  cold.  They  had  been  there  all  night,  expecting 
that  he  would  come  there,  and  had  murdered  everybody  who 
had  attempted  to  reach  the  house  without  hailing  them.  In  pur- 
suing this  brutal  course,  they  had  killed  three  young  men,  neigh- 
bors of  this  gentleman,  and  went  away,  leaving  their  dead  bodies 
on  the  ground. 

After  he  had  crossed  Okey's  river,  and  got  down  into  middle 
Tennessee,  he  found  it  almost  impossible  to  avoid  recognition.  At 
one  time  he  passed  some  poor  women,  and  one  of  them  commenced 
clapping  her  hands,  and  said,  "Oh,  I  know  who  that  is!"  but 
catching  herself,  she  stopped  short,  and  passed  on  with  her  com- 
panions. 

The  general  says  that  his  escape  was  made  entirely  without  the 
assistance  from  any  one  on  the  outside,  and,  so  far  as  he  knows, 
also  without  their  knowledge  of  his  intention ;  that  the  announce- 
ment of  his  arrival  at  Toronto  was  one  of  those  fortuitous  coinci- 
dences that  cannot  be  accounted  for ;  that  it  assisted  him  mate- 
rially, no  doubt.  In  fact,  he  says  that  his  "  wife's  prayers"  saved 
him,  and,  as  this  is  the  most  agreeable  way  of  explaining  it,  he  is 
determined  to  believe  it. 

The  above  account  may  be  relied  on  as  correct;  and,  although 
much  has  been  left  out,  yet  enough  is  printed  to  stamp  it  as  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  escapes  in  history. 


406  APPENDIX. 


MORGAN'S  JOURNEY  THROUGH  KENTUCKY. 

S.  C.  Reid,  the  correspondent  of  the  Atlanta  Intelligencer^  had 
an  interview  with  Captain  Henry  T.  Hines,  art  Daltou,  Ga.,  on  the 
4th  inst.,  and  obtained  the  particulars  of  his  capture,  escape  from 
the  Ohio  Penitentiary,  and  return  to  Dixie.  As  the  public  are 
familiar  with  the  circumstances  of  the  capture,  &c.,  we  confine 
our  extracts  to  the  thrilling  incidents  of  thereturn  to  the  Confed- 
eracy in  company  with  General  Morgan,  which  will  amply  repay 
perusal. 

It  had  been  previously  determined  that,  on  reaching  the  outer 
walls,  the  parties  should  separate,  Morgan  and  Hines  together,  and 
the  others  to  shape  their  course  for  themselves.  Thus  they  parted. 
Hines  and  the  general  proceeded  at  once  to  the  depot  to  purchase 
their  tickets  for  Cincinnati.  But,  lo!  where  was  the  money  ?  The 
inventive  Hines  had  only  to  touch  the  magical  wand  of  his  inge- 
nuity, to  be  supplied.  "While  in  prison  he  had  taken  the  precau- 
tion, after  planning  his  escape,  to  write  to  a  lady  friend  in  a 
peculiar  cipher,  which,  when  handed  fo  the  authorities  to  read 
through  openly,  contained  nothing  contraband,  but  which,  on  the 
young  lady  receiving,  she,  according  to  instructions,  sent  him 
some  books,  in  the  back  of  one  of  which  she  concealed  some 
"  greenbacks,"  and  across  the  inside  wrote  her  name,  to  indicate 
the  place  where  the  money  was  deposited !  The  books  came  safe 
to  hand,  and  Hines  was  flush  I  Going  boldly  up  to  the  ticket- 
office,  while  Morgan  modestly  stood  back  and  adjusted  a  pair  of 
green  goggles  over  his  eyes,  which  one  of  the  men  having  weak 
eyes  had  worn  in  the  prison. 

They  took  their  seats  in  the  cars  without  suspicion.  How  their 
hearts  beat  until  the  locomotive  whistled  to  start!  Slowly  the 
wheels  turn,  and  they  are  oif !  The  cars  were  due  in  Cincinnati 
at  7  A.  M.  At  Dalton,  Ohio,  they  were  detained  one  hour.  What 
keen  anguish  of  suspense  did  they  not  suffer  !  They  knew  that 
at  5  o'clock  A.  M.  the  convicts  would  be  called,  and  that  the  escape 
would  then  be  discovered,  ^vhen  it  would  be  telegraphed  in  every 
direction  ;  consequently  the  guards  would  be  ready  to  greet  them 
on  their  arrival.  They  were  rapidly  neariug  the  city  of  Abolition 
hogdom.     It  was  a  cool,  rainy  morning.     Just  as  the  train  entered 


APPENDIX.  407 

the  suburbs,  about  a  half  a  mile  from  the  depot,  the  two  escaped 
prisoners  went  out  on  the  platform  and  put  on  the  brakes,  check- 
ing the  cars  sutficieutly  to  let  them  jump  oflf.  liines  jumped  off 
first,  and  fell,  considerably  stunned.  Morgan  followed  unhurt. 
They  immediately  niade  towards  the  river,  striking  it  at  Ludlow's 
Ferry.  Here  they  found  a  boy  with  a  skift',  who  had  just  ferried 
across  some  ladies  from  Coviugtou.  They  dared  not  turn  their 
heads,  for  fear  of  seeiyg  the  guards  coming.  "  Hines,"  whispered 
the  general,  "look  and  see  if  anybody  is  coming!"  The  boy  was 
told  that  they  wanted  to  cross,  but  he  desired  to  wait  for  more 
passengers.  The  general  told  him  that  he  was  in  a  hurry,  and 
promised  to  pay  double  fare.  The  skiff  shot  out  into  the  stream, 
they  soon  reached  the  Kentucky  shore,  and  breathed  free ! 

The  boy  had  told  them  the  place  of  residence  of  a  lady  friend ; 
thither  they  bent  their  steps,  and  were  received  with  the  wildest 
demonstrations  of  joy  and  hospitality.  They  were  afraid  to  tarry 
long.  Horses  were  immediately  procured  for  them,  and  that  day, 
the  28th  November,  they  rode  to  the  town  of  Union,  in  Boone 
county,  twenty-eight  miles  from  Covington.  There  they  stayed  all 
night  and  the  next  day,  leaving  on  the  niglit  of  the  29th,  with  volun- 
teer guides,  and  travelling  by  neighborhood  and  by-roads,  passing 
through  Gallatin  county  to  Owen  county  line,  where  they  stopped 
with  a  friend  and  spent  the*day  of  the  30th.  They  resumed  their 
travels  at  night,  passing  through  !N'ew  Liberty,  crossed  the  Ken- 
tucky river,  and  at  2  a.  m.,  on  the  1st  December,  stopped  twelve 
miles  the  other  side  of  Newcastle.  Pushing  on  that  day,  they 
arrived  at  night  eight  miles  this  side  of  Shelbyville,  where  they 
spent  the  day  of  the  2d  with  their  friends,  meeting  with  a  glorious 
reception.  At  night  they  departed  again,  passing  through  Taylors- 
ville,  and  reached  the  vicinity  of  Bardstown  on  the  morning  of  the 
8d.  Here  they  remained  over  until  the  night  of  the  5th,  having 
received  a  most  cordial  greeting  and  unbounded  hospitality.  Again 
advancing,  they  passed  through  glorious  old  Nelson  county,  stop- 
ping on  Rolling  Fork.  On  the  5th,  they  laid  over,  and  at  night 
reached  the  vicinity  of  Greensburg,  passing  between  the  pickets 
of  the  enemy  and  their  base.  The  fugitives  had  been  joined  by 
four  others,  and  the  party  now  consisted  of  six.  They  remained 
concealed  inside  of  the  enemy's  pickets  during  the  day  of  the  6th. 
Their  trip  through  Kentucky  had  been  one  grand  ovation,  the 
ladies  going  wild  with  joy,  and  the  men  offering  them  every  thing 
in  their  power,  showing  that  the  true  spirit  still  breathes  in  that 
down-trodden  State. 


408  APPENDIX. 

On  the  night  of*  the  6th  they  procured  guides  to  proceed  to  tho 
Cumberland  river,  the  road  being  thickly  lined  with  Yankees. 
At  ten  A.  M.,  on  the  7th,  they  reached  the  Cumberland,  nine  miles 
below  Burksville,  having  travelled  sixty  miles  that  night,  and 
crossed  the  river  in  a  canoe,  swimming  their  horses  and  passing 
for  Federal  cavalry.  That  night  they  stayed  at  the  house  of  a 
good  Union  friend,  who,  supposing  them  to  belong  to  Jacobs'  cav- 
alry, took  the  best  care  of  them.  On  the  8th,  they  passed  into 
Overton  county,  Tennessee,  following  in  the  rear  of  a  large  Yankee 
scouting  party,  who,  they  learned,  were  in  hot  chase  after  Morgan ! 
The  general  here  learning  that  a  number  of  escaped  prisoners  of 
his  command  were  in  the  vicinity,  a  portion  being  under  Captain 
Ray,  he  determined  to  wait  until  they  cwuld  be  collected,  and  then 
take  them  out,  for  which  purpose  he  laid  over  until  the  12th  of 
December. 

The  squad  was  now  increased  to  forty  men,  under  command  of 
Captain  Hines,  and  crossing  a  spur  of  the  Cumberland  by  way  of 
Crossville,  between  Sparta  and  Knoxville,  they  arrived  at  Bridge's 
feny,  on  the  Tennessee  river,  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
the  13th.  There  being  no  boat  or  skiff  to  cross,  the  party  was 
compelled  to  fell  trees  to  make  a  raft.  This  ferry  was  within  two 
miles  and  a  half  of  a  Yankee  cavalry  camp.  By  two  p.  m.  they 
had  succeeded  in  crossing  twenty-five  men  and  six  horses.  At 
this  time  a  cavalry  force  of  the  enemy  appeared  on  the  north  side 
of  the  river,  and  fired  upon  the  party  who  had  been  engaged  in 
making  the  raft.  The  enemy  succeeded  in  capturing  three  or  four 
men,  but  the  others  made  their  escape  back  into  Tennessee.  At 
the  same  moment  the  enemy  also  appeared  on  the  south  side  of  the 
river,  when  General  Morgan,  Hines,  and  four  others  mounted  their 
horses  to  escape.  After  riding  two  miles  and  a  half  from  the  river, 
Hines  rode  up  to  a  house  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  a  guide, 
leaving  Morgan  and  the  other  men  in  the  road.  Hines  had  ob- 
tained the  guide,  when  he  heard  Morgan  halloo  to  him,  and  soon 
after  a  party  of  cavalry  dashed  up  towards  Hines,  which  at  first 
he  took  for  a  party  of  our  men,  until  thej  approached  .so  close 
that  escape  was  impossible.  Hines  had  on  a  Yankee  gun-cloth 
which  covered  his  clothes,  and  seeing  that  they  took  him  for  an 
"  Abolish,"  he  feigned  to  be-  a  Yankee.  The  Abolish  captain 
riding  up,  asked,  "  Who  are  you  ?"  "  One  of  you,"  replied  Hines. 
"Where  are  the  rebels?''  asked  the  captain.  "They  have  just 
gone  down  this  road ;  come  on,  and  we  will  catch  them,"  said 
Hines,  riding  off  in  the  opposite  direction  from  that  taken  by 


APPENDIX.  409 

Morgan,  who,  at  the  time,  was  near  tlie  foot  of  the  liill,  and  was 
thus  enabled  to  escape.  The  party  followed  Hines,  but  soon  after 
discovered  him  to  he  a  true  rebel,  and  taking  away  his  arms  they 
threatened  to  hang  liim  for  misleading  them. 

Hines  was  carried  across  the  river  to  their  camps,  and  put  under 
guard.  He  passed  off  for  a  private  under  the  name  of  Bullitt, 
That  night  he  ate  up  several  letters  and  private  papers,  besides 
the  notes  of  his  tr^,  which  would  have  condemned  him,  thus 
making  a  paper  supper,  which  probably  saved  his  neck.  On  the 
evening  of  the  14th  the  captain  retunied  from  the  scout,  and  re- 
ported that  the  rebels  had  escaped.  He  had  learned  from  a  citizen 
that  Morgan  was  one  of  the  party,  and  suspected  Hines  of  being 
an  escaped  prisoner.  He  charged  him  with  being  a  Confederate 
officer,  and  questioned  him  very  closely.  In  order  to  gain  Hines's 
confidence,  and  to  pump  him,  he  treated  him  very  kindly,  and 
asked  him  to  go  to  a  Union  man's  house  to  take  supper. 

On  leaving  the  house,  about  nine  P.M.,  which  was  half  a  mile  from 
the  camp,  after  getting  off  about  ten  steps,  the  "  Yank"  remem- 
bered he  had  left  his  shawl,  and  went  back.  The  night  was  dark, 
and  nines  struggled  with  himself  to  gain  his  consent  to  escape, 
but  considering  the  confidence  and  kindness  of  the  officer,  he  con- 
eluded  to  wait  until  he  got  out  of  his  hands.  Hines  remained  in 
camp  under  guard  during  the  night  of  the  14th,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing was  sent  to  Kingston,  with  an  escort  of  ten  men,  where  he  was 
placed  in  jail,  and  kept  for  five  days  without  fire,  and  almost  with- 
out food.  Here  he  found  three  of  his  comrades  who  had  been  cap- 
tured on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  On  the  20th,  he  and  his  three 
companions,  William  and  Robert  Church,  and  Smith,  of  the  third 
Kentucky  Cavalry,  were  sent  to  the  camp  of  the  Third  Yankee 
Kentucky  Infantry,  opposite  Loudon,  on  the  Tennessee  river,  nine- 
teen miles  from  Kingston.  The  prisoners  were  confined  in  a  small 
house  in  the  centre  of  the  camp,  the  timber  being  cut  down  in  every 
direction  for  half  a  mile,  and  there  being  but  one  path  leading  to 
the  mountain  from  the  camp,  which  was  closely  guarded.  That 
night  it  was  bright  moonlight,  but;  the  moon  went  down  just  before 
daylight. 

Hines  and  his  companions,  by  agreement,  under  pretence  of 
being  very  cold,  dressed  themselves  at  the  time,  and  sat  down 
with  the  guards  round  the  fire.  At  a  given  signal  his  comrades 
rose  and  stood  round  the  fire,  while  Hines,  keeping  one  of  the 
guards  busily  engaged  talking,  quietly  approached  the  door  unob- 
b'.ryed,  raising  the  latch,  giving  the  wink  at  the  same  time  to  his 

18 


410  APPENDIX. 

friends.  Then  turning  suddenly,  he  threw  the  door  wide  open, 
and  said,  with  composure,  "  Gentlemen,  we  have  remained  here 
long  enough  ;  it  is  time  we  were  going."  .  The  guards  were  struck 
dumb  with  surprise,  and  thought  it  a  joke.  But  before  thev  could 
recover  their  senses,  Hines  flew  past  the  guards  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  ran  like  a  deer  for  the  woods.  He  heard  a  struggle  for 
a  moment  near  the  house,  and  then  a  volley  of  Minie  balls  whizzed 
by  him.  Ilis  three  comrades  must  have  beeu  caught.  The  enemy 
pursued  him  to  the  wood  and  up  the  mountain  for  three-quarters 
of  a  mile,  when  they  lost  his -track.  Hines  travelled  six  miles 
across  the  mountains  that  morning,  and  lay  concealed  during  the 
day.  At  night  he  approached  a  house  in  a  valley,  and  finding  the 
occupant  a  Unionist,  he  passed  himself  oflE"  as  a  Yankee  govern-, 
ment  agent.  In  conversing  about  the  rebels,  the  Unionist  said 
there  were  a  few  still  lurking  about,  but  as  the  river  was  well 
guarded,  there  were  but  few  places  they  could  cross  at,  and  men- 
tioned one  place  five  miles  below  Loudon,  where  he  said  a  rebel  lived 
who  kept  a  canoe.  Hines  made  an  excuse  to  go  out  that  night, 
and  proceeded  to  the  ferry  indicated,  where  he  found  the  canoe 
and  crossed  the  river.  He  soon  found  many  friends  on  the  south 
side  of  the  river  to  aid  him,  and  travelling  altogether  by  night  till 
out  of  danger,  he  finally  arrived  at  Dalton,  Ga.,  on  the  evening 
of  the  29th  December,  having  walked  the  whole  distance  from 
Loudon. 


APPENDIX. 


411 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  MORGAN.* 


In  .vo„r  paper  of  tho  13tl,  of  February,  this  notice  appears- 

Bn,.a,l,er^general  ShackelforO,  who  capture,!  Morgan,    hasTel 

er^l  S      tTr  ,"?  ""'  '"^  ''"'  "''«  "-  been  led  toili'ovo  Geo- 

:  if  rtffrc  xr  - 'i' " ""  ^'-^f  •  ''"^'  ^^  ">« "--  ^- 

due  "an,!   tl    r  ?°'""'  ""•''y  ••*  eiven,  where  honor  is 

due     and   that  your  readers  may  become   acquainted  wit),  the 

fh    whet'— ■■  "r"'™-''  '  «'™  ''""^  ''  P'^'°  ^''"--'  "f 
can  vouch.  ''"'  '"  ""^  ''"""'^''s^'  ""-l  ^"^  «Wch  I 

.  Jl""!?  5°''^'"'  ""'""^  ""^  Cumberland    river.  Brigadier-gen- 
eral Judah,    commanding  the  Second  division  of  Tvfen  yXd 

tZi:r\'''''T'  ?^-^i-g-eral  E.  H.   Hobson,  con  „,a  d 

GWowt  ?'f'  "'i''"""^  -^'"^'o"'  '°  ™»-^  fro-"  CoIumbL  to 
Glasgow,  Kentucky.  When  he  arrived  within  five  miles  of  Glas 
gow,  he  received  orders  from  General  Judah  to  m"ve  wfth  ht 
Second  brigade  to  Tompkinsville-that  he    Judah    h,dTft  7 

MoCat  c:«ha::  ?»"  ^^"^  T^'  ^"^  -pt'teSlo'ltk 
morgan  at  Carthage,  Tennessee.  General  Hobson  arrived  with 
h,s  command  at  Ray's  Cross  Roads,  eigl,teen  miles  from  G    Jow 

^th  sf.  h'  '"/""r^  "'  ,"'''  P'^''^'  ^'  P™^^^J^<1  to  TompkinstmT 
Juth  n  "'  '^'''■^■'  '"''  '"=»"P'«'i  «'«  Pl»««.  until  G  n  al 
When  GenlrT",^K""°  "™^  ''"'^  J"'"  ^imat  iompkin  v  1  f 
tW  M.  "'.  '"■"™'^'  •^*°*™'  Ifobson  reported  to  him 

Burkfv  f "  H:Lr"""  "P«^  Cumberland,  and  Lm  cross  a" 
Jiurksville.     Hobson  ^mMed  on  General  Judah  giving  him  orders 

*  From  the  Army  and  Navy  Journal. 


412  APPENmx. 

ascertained  that  Morgan  was  crossing  his  force  at  Burksville  and 
Cloyd's  Ferry,  nine  miles  below  Burksville.  Hobson  informed 
Judali  of  his  movements,  and  of  the  movements  of  Morgan,  and 
stated  that  he  had  ordered  General  Shackelford's  brigade  from 
Kay's  Cross  Roads  to  assist  him. 

Shackelford  arrived  at  Marrow-Bone  at  12  p.  m.  July  2d. 
Hobson  did  not  put  him  on  duty,  but  told  him  to  rest  and  feed 
his  men,  and  be  ready  to  move  at  an  early  hour  next  morning; 
that  he  would  attack  Morgan's  command  next  morning  at  Cloyd's 
Ferry,  and  prevent  him  from  uniting  his  two  brigades ;  this  he 
would  do  in  violation  of  General  Judah's  orders,  as  it  was  tho 
only  way  to  prevent  Morgan  from  entering  and  devastating  the 
State.  Hobson  dispatched  General  Judah,  who  was  then  sup- 
posed to  be  at  Ray's  Cross  Roads,  fourteen  miles  in  the  rear,  his 
plans,  and  the  disposition  he  intended  to  make  of  his  forces,  and 
stated  it  was  in  violation  of  orders  "  heretofore  received."  Gen- 
eral Judah  met  the  courier  six  miles  from  Marrow-Bone,  and  sent 
an  aide  at  full  speed,  with  verbal  orders  to  General  Hobson,  to 
suspend  all  military  operatio7is,  and  to  countermand  all  orders 
for  the  moving  of  troops.  General  Hobson  reluctantly  obeyed, 
and  stated  to  General  Judah  that  Morgan  would  unite  his  forces, 
and  get  considerably  the  start,  if  he  (Judah)  did  not  order  the 
troops  to  move  and  attack  Morgan.  -After  delaying  one  brigade 
twelve,  and  another  twenty-four  hours,  General  Judah  adopted 
Hobson's  second  plan ;  to  cross  the  country,  sending  one  brigade 
through  Columbia,  and  one  through  Greensburgli,  to  unite  at 
Campbellsville.  Judah  returned  to  Glasgow.  Hobson  and 
Shackelford  united  at  Campbellsville,  and  proceeded  to  Lebanon, 
Kentucky,  leaving  Judah  south  of  Green  river,  he  having  failed  to 
cross  his  cavalry  before  the  river  became  too  high.  General 
Burnside  telegraphed  to  General  Hobson  to  assume  command  of 
all  the  cavalry  at  Lebanon,  consisting  of  his  own,  Shackelford's, 
Woolford's,  and  Xants'  commands,  and  to  pursue  and  capture 
Morgan ;  and  to  impress  horses,  subsistence,  &c.,  for  his  com- 
mand. Upon  receiving  this  order  Hobson  continued  the  pursuit, 
and  directed  all  the  movements  of  the  troops  under  him. 

Morgan  having  stripped  the  country,  through  which  he  passed, 
of  horses,  &c.,  Hobson  labored  under  many  disadvantages,  but 
pushed  ahead,  determined  to  attack  Morgan  with  fifteen  me'n — if 
DO  more  than  that  number  could  keep  up  with  him.  At  Bnffirfg- 
ton  Island,  on  the  19th  of  July,  Hobson  attacked,  routed,  scat- 
tered, and  whipped  Morgan  ;  having  followed  him  for  twenty-one 


APPENDIX.  413 

days  and  nights.  Hobson  leading  in  the  front  when  the  attack 
was  made,  was  convinced  that  Morgan  could  not  cross  the  river, 
and  would  attempt  to  get  to  the  rear,  and  take  the  back  track! 
To  prevent  this,  Hobson  sent  orders  to  General  Shackelford  and 
Colonel  WooUbrd  to  occupy  positions  four  miles  from  the  river, 
and  attack  Morgan's  force,  part  of  which  was  moving  to  that 
I»oint.  Also  to  pursue  in  every  direction,  and  lose  no  time  in 
capturing  Morgan's  scattered  and  routed  forces.  These  orders 
were  promptly  obeyed,  and  resulted  at  this  point  in  the  capture 
of  four  hundred  and  seventy-five  men.  Colonels  Kants,  Sanders, 
and  Lieutenant-colonel  Adams  had  similar  orders  to  follow  up 
Morgan's  scattered  force,  and  drive  them  in  the  direction  of 
Shackelford  and  Woolford,  all  of  whom,  in  obeying  these  orders, 
captured  quite  a  number  of  prisoners. 

It  is  evident  that  General  Hobson  was  in  command  of  the  expe- 
dition from  the  time  he  left  Lebanon,  until  its  close,  as  he  had 
been  placed  in  command  by  Major-general  Burnside,  and  received 
DO  countermanding  orders;  although  it  is  true  he  did  receive 
instructions  or  information  from  time  to  time  from  Generals 
Burnside  and  Boyle. 

Major  Ptue,  of  the  Ninth  Kentucky  cavalry,  is  the  officer  who 
captured  Morgan  in  person  ;  Sergeant  Drake,  of  the  Eighth  Mich- 
igan cavalry,  and  a  sergeant  of  the  Ninth  Michigan  cavalry,  cap- 
tured Colonel  Basil  Duke,  Colonel  Howard  Smith,  and  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  line-officers  and  privates. 

General  Hobson  could  not,  of  course,  lead  in  every  direction 
after  he  had  broken  up  and  routed  Morgan  at  Buffington  Island. 
It  was  his  duty  to  see  to  his  wounded  ;  give  orders  to  the  il^r- 
suing  parties,  and  see  that  the  prisoners  were  properly  secured 
and  cared  for,  as  well  as  other  details,  that  none  but  a  command- 
ing general  are  likely  to  be  familiar  with,  or  think  of. 

There  are  many  other  interesting  incidents  concerning  the 
action  of  Generals  Hobson,  Shackelford,  Manson,  and  Judah,  Col- 
onels Woolford,  Kants,  and  others;  but  it  is  not  my  purpose  to 
go  into  a  detailed  history,  further  than  to  give — what  I  have  en- 
deavored to  give  above— a  plain  and  truthful  statement  of  facts 
connected  with  the  pursuit  and  capture  of  the  rebel  General  John 
H.  Morgan. 


414  APPENDIX. 


MOPwGAK,   THE   HOPE   OF   THE  TVEST. 

The  war-cloud  hung  lurid  and  dark, 

And  terror  each  soul  did  assail, 
When  anon  with  fury  it  burst, 

Sending  forth  a  heartrending  wail. 
Mothers  to  their  offspring  did  cling, 

Fair  maidens  did  beat  on  their  breasts, 
For  the  hordes  and  freebooting  bands 

Of  Lincoln  did  ravage  the  West. 

Hearts  in  supplication  arose, 

That  God  some  deliverance  might  bring, 
When  lo !  a  brave  leader  appears. 

Whose  advent  in  chorus  now  sing; 
For  no  common  leader  is  he ; 

High  towering  amongst  all  the  rest, 
1^0  brand  with  such  terror  does  flash, 

As  Morgan's,  the  hope  of  the  West. 

His  advent  the  Yankees  did  scorn, 

And  dubbed  him  with  every  vile  name, 
Guerilla,  land-pirate,  outlaw, 

Whom  naught  but  a  halter  could  tame. 
But  dearer  this  leader  became 

To  every  Confederate  breast. 
And  never  did  star  brighter  shine 

Than  Morgan,  the  hope  of  the  West. 

To  Abe,  this  brave  chieftain  appeared 

A  fiend  of  ubiquitous  dread  ; 
A  whole  mint  he'd  most  freely  give, 

The  price  of  this  hobgoblin's  head. 
For  oft  while  his  minions  feel  safe, 

Far,  far  from  this  foe  to  their  rest, 
Destruction  would  leap  like  a  flash, — 

'Tis  Morgan,  the  hope  of  the  West. 


APPENDIX.  4:15 


Whilst  fear,  consternation,  and  dread, 

The  freebooting  hordes  sore  oppressed, 
Bright  Hope,  with  soft  pinions,  did  fan 

The  hearts  of  fair  maidens  distressed. 
A  sliout,  now  spontaneous  arose 

From  every  fond  Southern  breast, 
No  champion  of  Freedom's  so  bold. 

As  Morgan,  the  hope  of  the  West. 


GENERAL  MORGAN'S  KENTUCKY  HOLIDAY  RAID. 

It's  of  chivalrous  Morgan  I  propose  to  sing. 

And  of  the  brave  heroes  that  round  him  do  cling, 

Whose  valor  has  thrilled  the  heart  of  the  nation. 

Whose  prowess  astounds  this  lower  creation; 

But  'mongst  his  brave  deeds,  that  most  worthy  of  praise 

Was  his  dash  in  Kentuck  during  holidays. 

The  enemy  held  this  entire  neutral  soil, 

And  each  true  Soaithron  was  the  victim  of  spoil. 

The  heart  of  brave  Morgan  beat  high  in  his  breast. 

As  the  plume  of  the  tyrant  waved  in  his  crest. 

He  vowed  that  his  State  should  be  happy  and  free. 

And  his  watchword  was  death  to  all  tyranny. 

Many  brave  hearts  had  flocked  to  this  hero  bold. 

From  that  doomed  State  that  to  the  despot  Avas  sold, 

Many  others,  likewise  from  States  further  south. 

Whose  hands  they  had  torn  from  the  gorilla's  mouth. 

With  this  heroic  band  of  brave  volunteers, 

Whose  free  hearts  were  strangers  to  unmanly  fears, 

He  set  out  for  Kentuck  with  high  beating  heart. 

Determined  to  baflie  the  enemy's  art; 

With  speed  far  surpassing  the  old  warrior's  code. 

By  day  and  by  night  we  vigorously  rode. 

No  halting  our  horses,  so  weary,  to  unsaddle, 

That  our  foeman  might  have  no  time  to  skedaddle. 

We  eagerly  attacked  each  bristling  stockade — 

For  railroad  defence  these  strongholds  were  made, — 


416  APPENDIX. 

But  they  all  surrendered,  even  seven  or  more, 
And  prisoners  very  numerous, — yea,  many  a  score. 
Thus,  by  boldly  baffling  the  enemy's  wiles. 
Their  railroad  we  destroyed  for  forty  long  miles; 
.  Far  had  we  entered  the  terror-stricken  State, 
Where  tyranny  guards  every  iron-barred  gate; 
But  the  object  achieved  of  this  bold  foray, 
To  the  South  we'd  return  without  delay. 
The  enemy's  rage  now  with  fury  did  burn. 
That  to  the  South  they  swore  we  should  never  return ; 
So  they  fiercely  beset  us  on  every  hand, 
In  hopes  of  destroying  our  heroic  band, 
Each  highway  they  guarded  with  a  numerous  host, 
Each  far  more  numerous  than  Morgan  could  boast. 
Destruction  seemed  certain,  and  conquest  most  sure. 
As  we  appeared  now  entrapped  by  the  enemy's  lure; 
3  *t  Morgan  was  there,  whose  wits  never  fail  him, 
Who's  always  at  home  when  dangers  assail  him: 
By  by-ways  he  led  us  that  cold,  dreary  night, 
And  this  snarl  we  escaped  by  next  morning's  light; 
Each  day  and  each  night  it  was  common  to  hear, 
"The  foe  are  pursuing — are  fighting  our  rear;" 
The  fire  we  returned,  yet  right  onward  we  sped,  -^ 
Though  risks  we  did  run,  every  danger  we  fled. 
Thus  dangers  we  escaped  and  conquest  we  made, 
In  this  brilliant  Kentuck,  this  holiday  raid. 
Some  mishaps  we  met  with,  some  few  men  we  lost, 
But  each  gallant  life  cost  the  foeman  a  host; 
A  sad  mischance  occurred  to  the  heroic  Duke, 
Who's  as  bold  as  a  lion,  but  mild  as  St.  Luke : 
Tliis  brave  hero,  who  is  scarce  less  than  Morgan, 
Was  severely  wounded  on  the  cranial  organ. 
While  repelling  an  attack  made  on  his  rear, 
He  fell  by  a  sliell  that  exploded  too  near; 
But  long  may  he  live,  a  terror  to  the  foe, 
For  he  will  perform  all  that  valor  cau  do. 
One  incident  more  I  will  here  barely  note, 
Like  that  the  old  Muses  so  fondly  did  quote. 
Of  brave  Captain  Treble  and  another  as  bold, 
Whose  deeds  are  equal  to  the  heroes  of  old. 
They  met  in  combat,  three  champions  to  two, 
Whom  fiercely  they  fought,  and  a  colonel  they  slew; 


APPE^JDIX.  417 

The  others  surrendered,  but  ahnost  too  late, 
For  the  weapon  was  poised  to  seal  the  sad  fate 
Of  one,  the  most  daring  of  that  vanquished  band, 
As  prostrate  he  lay  under  bold  Treble's  hand. 
Colonel  Halsey  fell  by  brave  Eastin's  fire; 
The  doom  of  the  rest  was  less  fatally  dire: 
Was  that  of  prisoners  who  surrender  in  war 
To  a  foe  more  generous  than  tyrants  by  far. 
But  now,  having  returned  to  true  Southern  soil. 
We  are  calmly  reposing  after  our  toil ; 
But  Morgan,  our  leader,  is  still  scenting  his  game. 
And  soon  he  will  have  us  pursuing  the  same. 
Long,  long  may  he  live,  this  true  son  of  Mars, 
And  triumphantly  wave  the  Stars  and  the  Bars, 
And  each  Southern  sister  in  glory  arrayed, 
Recline  most  gracefully  beneath  itjs  wide  shade. 
18* 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
452 


